Carrot
by Imyoshi
Summary: Nora Valkyrie celebrated every holiday under the sun, including the ones she made up. Innocent or not. Only her Fearless Leader had the patience to indulge her whimsical streak, and by perseverance, he meant his inability to say no to her gigawatt smile. Weakness, thy name was Jaune Arc.
1. Carrot

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of RWBY.

* * *

**Carrot**

**By: Imyoshi**

Nora Valkyrie stalked her prey through the corridors of Beacon Academy.

Left, right, two turns and whoosh, she pounced and glomped her Fearless Leader from behind. Dumb-dumb staggered from the sudden shift of weight. Not a problem for her. Her legs wrapped around his waist with arms hugging his neck from behind, squeezing tight like an affectionate sloth. His twisting and turning added to the fun, and she openly grinned between the bouts of dizziness.

"Nora!"

She giggled against his neck. Jaune-Jaune always knew who slothed on his back, like a mind reader. "Happy Piggyback Day!"

Jaune Arc almost rolled his eyes and sighed all at once. She could tell from the way he gripped the nearby wall for support, breathing in that heart-racing way that was a mixture of panic and joy. None of her added weight affected his posture, but she felt his shoulders shift from rigid to relax in a heartbeat. Then he moved away from the wall and shot a glance over his shoulder, trying—and failing spectacularly hard—at hiding a smile. Dork.

"Piggyback Day?"

"It's important to celebrate all the holidays, even the smallest ones, that way none of them feel underappreciated. Now march! Move your butt!"

He shook his head and followed through with the eye-rolling, but never ordered Nora to detangle herself or showed hints of annoyance. What she failed to mention was celebrating the made up ones counted, too. Funny thing about insanity, more exposure led to less resistance. Nora Valkyrie, aka the self-proclaimed Queen of the Castle, conqueror of sloths and Pancake connoisseur, didn't live by the edge of her seat, she was spontaneousness incarnated. Every few days was a holiday for her. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and so forth! All belonged to her. He learned this the hard way during their first week as a team, discovering that _Prank the Professor Day_ was not, in fact, a holiday supported by the Kingdom of Vale for the students and facility, nor did Doctor Oobleck have a sense of humor after replacing his coffee with decaf. The only reason they got caught was because she wrote their names on his mug in permanent marker a few days after.

_Don't you see? I had to! It was Confess Your Crimes Day!_

Things spiraled out of control after that. Dynamics shifted. Nora invented new anniversaries on a whim, celebrating them to their fullest, and somehow, someway he always got roped into them. Some were better than others. _Hug a Tree Day_ was his favorite thus far, ending faster than it took to say it, while _Cut a Lock of Yang's Hair Day_ left him emotionally scarred with a permanent state of fear that had him looking over his shoulder every time Yang entered the vicinity. She never found out, and the scrapbook Nora kept the lock would forever remain locked underneath her bed until they graduated. Not like Nora cared for the consequences.

She lived in the here and now.

Sometimes he put his foot down and told her no. Okay. He tried telling her no. Fine! He never said no. How could he? Seeing her so happy made him happy, in a sappy and exhausting way. Not to mention, she kept things from being boring. Scrolls' amusement only lasted so long, much shorter than their abysmal battery life.

In all honesty, it was his fault for indulging her for so long.

Now the social norm included fulfilling his role as holiday enthusiast, but missing the enthusiast part. Maybe if he had some help diverting her attention, oh, he hadn't the foggiest clue, perhaps some team members to shoulder the responsibility? Things wouldn't be so unforgiving. Alas, where would he find some partakes in this joyous day of piggyback riding?

Jaune Arc forcefully kicked open the door open to his team's room and zeroed in on the frozen Ren and Pyrrha.

Speak of the devils.

Nora threw her hands up. "Guys! It's Piggyback Day! Grab a pair of shoulders and ride until the sun sets."

Ren blinked nonchalantly to the display. He saw the distress his leader was going through and wisely shared a sideways glance with Pyrrha. A bristle of wind passed from the open window, and in a display of sheer backstabbery, he peeked down at his wrist and feigned a raised brow.

"Would you look at the time." Ren tapped his finger on his imaginary watch. "We got that thing, right, Pyrrha?"

"At that place? Most certainly." Pyrrha smiled, but it was shallower than a puddle. "Apologies, Nora. Perhaps another time."

Traitors! Both of them. Mutiny at its finest.

Nora pouted, resting her chin on his noggin. "Boring. Both of you. Jaune's having fun, see?"

By fun, she meant against his will. He showed that quite well with the sweat trickling down his cheek, but Nora's kicking legs turned the mood to her favor. One part Arc, one part Valkyrie, all fun. F-U-N. Fun! Ren and Pyrrha sadly couldn't share in the fun having a thing to go to at that place. Did he forget to mention they were traitors? Both of them?

Pyrrha hid that smile behind her palm, emerald shaded eyes glowing in mischief. Ren's lips threatened to curve at the edges, almost shattering his nonchalant deposition. Pink irises refrained from arcing upward. Nora added to the merriment by brushing her cheek against his, squishing skin against skin.

Ren _booped _Nora on the nose. "Another time, Nora."

Pyrrha twirled her finger in a delightful circle before copying Ren, poking her partner's nose with a pearly white grin. Unlike him, her eyes bent upward, and she quickly paced out the room before guilt took hold of her. Somewhere in the background, along the corridors of the hallway and in the absence of no one, laughter escaped the invincible champion. Ren resisted Nora's pout and gently patted his hand on his leader's shoulder before following Pyrrha's path. A door closed with a click, and Nora's still squishing face switched places to rest her chin on her holiday buddy's noggin.

"Oh, well. More fun for us."

While stuck on this never-ending story, he glanced up. "Nora? How long am I going to be doing this?"

He felt her shift downward. "Until my legs get tired."

Ah.

Of course, until her hanging legs tuckered out from a long day of not walking. How foolish of him to ask. Piggyback Day couldn't end until one of them tuckered out. He straightened his back and headed toward the door. Might as well play along.

"Where to milady?"

He felt her grin. "A walk around Beacon. I want to wave to my loyal subjects. Onward, trusty steed."

Subjects meant students. Waving meant waving. Somehow that made perfect sense to the Arc and he trudged forward. Nora kicked the door open this time, cracking the hinges in place. He wasn't looking forward to explaining that to Professor Goodwitch. Not again. He drew the short straw last time, so by fairness, one of the other three had to venture into that lion's den. Steeds were much too busy moving onward to stay behind and poke the lions with a stick.

Down the stairs and out the hallways, they brisked with Nora waving to her fellow-subjects. Most of the student body didn't bat an eyelash to Jaune giving Nora a piggyback ride around Beacon, far too used to her antics. Few openly pitied him. Fewer grew envious. One recorded his walk outside on their Scroll.

Jaune Arc ignored them all.

More pressing matters weighed upon his mind. Nora's body cuddled up to his made for an uncomfortable distraction. Keeping her legs up required him to grip her smooth thighs, and her insistence to cling firmly pressed two soft mounds against his back. Braless, he might add. Worst of all, she smelled like Red Sap. Nothing overpowering. Good actually. A pleasant aroma that suited her more than syrup. Too bad that only heightened his senses and made him more aware of her slender body pressed to his.

For her hyper activeness and sheer audacity to throw common sense out the window, Nora disregarded personal space. Contact was a must for her, touching more often than not. She wasn't a hugger. Huggers hugged, Nora glomped. _Booped_. Pressed an infinite array of buttons until the machine malfunctioned. A walking, talking energizer bunny, but even he couldn't ignore her natural feminine side.

Out of the frying pan and into the oven, before he hadn't noticed the closeness, good ol' adrenaline blocked out sensation for survival, but now that his blood had an opportunity to cool off, it only reheated between each seditious step. _Bounce. Bounce. Bounce_. First his teammates and now his hormones? Rebels in every corner. He tried not to think about it, not even when she shifted upward to wave to the commoners, pressing her chest against the back of his head. Jaune thanked his lucky stars that Nora couldn't see him blushing up a storm. Exertion! That was the lie he readied just in case any noisy pecker asked. A twitching eyebrow was a side effect, next to thinned lips and a stoned-like face.

Nora kept on waving.

Picking up the pace, he maneuvered around the corner and headed straight for the courtyard. She offered him a small reprise by kneeling on his palms, but that lasted all but three seconds before she rested her chest on his head. Now she leaned on him, basking in the infinitely warm sun with two perfect lumps sitting on his sun-kissed hair. Who knew piggyback riding could be so corrupt? Devious. Dare he say blood rushing? He _really _tried not to think about it, hoping the sooner he marched through the garden section, the quicker he could crash and burn. Nora refused his internal request by making him go another round around the academy. Then another, and another.

A real strain on his back.

Not to say she was heavy. No, no, no. Far from it. Light as a feather, actually. A little of both. An oxymoron. Hn? The best way to describe Nora Valkyrie was an extra-thick short stack of pancakes. Juicy and sweet, but messy and fun twenty-four seven. Plumpy. Marshmallow soft. A tempting smell with a dazzling personality and attitude and—_really_ trying not to think about that with her body caressing his from behind. Weakening legs staggered from carrying extra weight in what felt like an hour, and it hardly helped that modesty and her were strangers on a good day. He kept his sights focused on the worn path ahead of him, stepping between cracks to occupy his thoughts, but Nora squeezed his neck and relished in the fun.

Baking under the sun must have simmered some of her enthusiasm because she gradually ceased her hailing and relaxed on his back. Silence followed the setting sun. A few minutes turned into ten, then twenty, and he was walking his fourth time around the courtyard when she _booped _him on the nose in a casual gesture.

"So? What's new, Fearless Leader?"

"New?"

She threw her legs out. "That's what I said, don't wear it out."

New? New. Huh? He racked his brain for an answer. Whatever he expected to find was missing. "Nothing, I guess. We're a team. Not much happens that the others don't find out about."

"Nothing?" Nora repeated. "No strange new diseases? No secret techniques. Nadda? Just the same old, same old?"

"Zip." Jaune smiled before he paused. "Oh! My parents did send me a postcard from our family's backyard, wondering when I'm coming home. That's new, I think. They've been sending one for each week now. It's honestly getting a bit suffocating, but hey, they worry. Family stuff."

He didn't notice the tone shift of the atmosphere until Nora slumped against his back. At most he considered her boundless energy finally hitting low, but that proved not to be the case when she frowned against his cheek, eyes glossy.

"... What's it like having a family?"

He instantly sobered up. Casualness turned rigid, and he offered a thoughtful hum. Of all things for Nora to ask him, and she touched on that subject? Tch! His fault for bringing up family stuff. Him and his big mouth. What was he supposed to say to orphan without hurting their feelings? What could anyone say in this situation? Well, not like he had much choice now. Indulging her would be better than pretending she never asked.

"Think of our team, but more of them and you've known them forever." Jaune reflected. "They get under your skin. There's very little privacy and everyone hordes food. Blackmail is common between siblings. Gotta do what you can do to survive in the food chain."

"But?"

"But they always have your back and tease you to no end. A family cares about your safety more than you care about it. They're annoying like that. Occasionally there's cheek pinching, but that fades over time."

"And parents?"

He chuckled. "Worse. Imagine having a monkey on your back all the time. Everyday. Until you move out. And even then they still call you and send you postcards. It's a nightmare."

"You make it sound fun."

Considering all the negative aspects he told her, he wouldn't trade any of the fond memories away for anything in the world. Good times. Bad times. Some had been fun. Others annoying and downright awful, but mudpies and stubborn sisters aside, he looked fondly back on all of them.

"It has its quirks."

Nora offered him a dull smile against his cheek, shoving hair into his skin and mouth, but she fooled no one. His failed attempts to distract her with cynical examples only worsened her mood. Her arms slackened around his neck while she detangled herself from his back. Piggyback Day had officially ended on a low note, or so she believed.

Gone went those lingering thoughts of indecent touching, and whatever idle movements cursed him vanished. He pulled her legs in tight, spread his feet apart, and before Nora said a word, took off in a race against the setting sun. Two more runs around the courtyard? How about ten! Jaune Arc ran them all, dipping and swirling around the gardens with Nora seizing his neck to lean back and enjoy the raging wind against her hair.

Today would be the best _Piggyback Day_ of all time, even if it killed him.

…

Someone put Jaune Arc out of his misery.

He literally crashed against the door to pry it open, wobbling inside with feet crying out for the sweet relief of death. So much sweat spilled down his face, dripping in that ew-ew way that made his sisters keep him back with a ten-foot pole. Jaune couldn't even see past his wet bangs, having used Nora's misguided directions to reach their dorm room. Not one of his brighter ideas. Something should have told him that going left four times meant following the path of a square or crudely drawn circle. Then again, he just finished running around the courtyard like a grade-A lunatic, so details, details. Pushing passed technicalities, he tottered and wiggled.

Nora graciously leapt away from his back to fix her unkempt hair and wrinkled outfit with a wide smile.

Jaune dropped down onto his bed like a sack of potatoes. Plump! Down he went, face first into his pillow with his muscles sore. Ouch! Double ouch! During some point, it went from uncomfortable to strenuous with all bouts of perversion flying out the window once his legs began shaking and her demeanor changing. Embarrassment turned into effervescent. Then that turned into exhaustion. Everything ached. Not for Nora. She hummed cheerfully at the side, fixing any wrinkles off her skirt with a twirl in her step. Her gigawatt smile lit the room up, and he visibly winced at her telltale thinking face. Already she planned another holiday, chewing on her hair in a rare occurrence of seriousness.

Ha. Ha-ha. Arg! It hurt to laugh rhetorically.

When it came to planning and sorting, Nora Valkyrie showed three faces. First came her thinker's face, eyes narrowed and arms crossed in holy defiance. Tapping of the foot followed her eureka moment, and stars and glitter shone in her eyes for those oh-so-special holidays. Of the three, stars and glitter haunted his nightmares, because sometimes she showed only stars or glitters, but both usually ended up with bruises and fractures. For example, right now, right this instant, turning the world upside down on its back, she currently vibrated in anticipation, drooling almost.

Not good. Not at all. Nope, nope. Time to skedaddle.

If he crawled to the door right now, rolled down the stairs and survived the impact, avoiding a concussion along the trip down, he might be able to make it to the Bullhead before tomorrow morning. A solid plan that she dismantled in the blink of an eye. Rose Rose ran at the speed of sound. Nora Valkyrie outran lightning. Gone in a flash, she blurred and grabbed a mountain's worth of sheets. Nora then wrapped him squarely on the bed with his layers dug deeply into the sockets. Her way of saying _thank you_ for an extra-extra special day. Easy escape for anyone with strength to spare, but his muscles screamed in protest and decided to be jelly. Noodly. Just like his name. Woe was Jaune.

"There you go. Nice and tight! Like a bug in a rug."

He failed to see the analogy. A few words were missing. Snug. Where was snug? He struggled a second time, a futile gesture. Nora overlooked his wiggling, much too busy searching the closet with a pile of junk tossed out by her haphazard hands. What he searched for he hadn't the foggiest clue, but when she grabbed some helmet with horns attached to the ends, he feared for tomorrow.

Then their partners walked in with Pyrrha holding her report for next week's history class, and Ren carrying a heap of snacks for the evening. Nora cheered, threw her hands up, and pulled Ren to the side to devour treats and talk aimlessly about her day, mouth stuffed. He listened attentively, every so often cleaning her cheeks clear of crumbs. Pyrrha, on the other hand, sat on the edge of her partner's bed, poking him on the side with her rolled-up report.

"How was Piggyback Day?"

"Legs. Noodley."

Pyrrha puckered her lips. Noodley legs? Clear signs of exhaustion? An intact spine? He escaped easy. Smiling, she glanced over to animated Nora, who told Ren all about her day in minute-to-minute detail. Judging by the exuberant grin and mad shaking, Nora enjoyed every second. That could also be a reaction to the intense sugar rush from swallowing three cans of soda, but hard to tell with her. Not the worst way to end a Thursday, or Nora's self-proclaimed Norasday. Why she held that particular part of the week in her heart not even Ren knew.

"At least Nora had fun."

Jaune turned his head on his pillow. "When doesn't she?"

Instead of walking in circles, Pyrrha gently ruffled up his hair. "There, there. Tomorrow's going to be a better day."

"And how do you know that?"

Now _her _eyes adopted that stars and glitter look. "Because we've got training all night long. And I've planned out a special regime to help build up stamina and focus on core development. You'll see. It'll be enjoyable. Be prepared to work off a sweat."

Suddenly he missed Piggyback Day.

**...**

Nora tiptoed across the room, careful not to wake up Jaune.

In her arms, she held an antique helmet and fake beard she purchased from the one-hundred lien store. She needed not to worry about Ren or Pyrrha. Sleepyheads wore earplugs to block out the sound of someone's snoring. Which was odd since neither of them snored, huh? Mysterious mysteries for another time. Blah, blah, she stretched her legs before pouncing on her leader's bed with her feet planted right on his stomach in a battle cry befitting a Valkyrie. The way he harshly gasped, coughing as she dropped and straddled his chest with her palms pressed flatly against his sputtering chest, forced her to give a pearly smile. Brilliant. Full of mischief. Nora cooed as Jaune caught his breath for the twentieth time this week.

When he regained full consciousness, instantly zeroing in on her bestraddled position, he inhaled casually, but firmly. Nora patiently waited. Three, two—too long!

"Happy Leif Erickson Day! Hinga Dinga Durgen!"

Not even her thunderous voice shook him alive or turned his scowl upside down. Nope. Hmmm? Probably had to do with his sore muscles. She felt them through his broad chest, finding knots for his knots and knots for those. Pyrrha pushed him through the grinder and back a few days ago. Something, something training, she barely recalled the whole ordeal, catching up on a history paper at the time. _Bor-ing._ All she remembered was Jaune's head plopping down on his bed in a coma-like state every night. Very zenny.

"Leif Erick—what?"

Her smile stretched, promising shenanigans. "Leif Erickson Day. So get up. Up, up. Here's your costume." Nora shoved a thorny helmet into his hands with a fake beard in the shade of her orange mimicking hair. "Prepare for a day of greatness. They'll tell stories to their grandchildren's grandchildren about our journey. Think a barrel of monkeys, but twice as fun!"

Since his experience with a barrel of monkeys was more nonexistent than his legit transcripts, he had no idea how to measure fun between the two. Grandchildren's grandchildren? Whatever. Best to inspect his costume for the day. Huh? Armored hats and fake beards? Okay. Reminded him of Halloween. How bad could Leif Erickson Day be?

Hours later, Pyrrha gasped when her partner walked into the room that afternoon with parts of his skin seared in first-degree burns, mostly his right arm. Aura worked to repair his forelimb, combating burn marks and rejuvenating burnt skin, but the ashy soot meshing with his cheeks, nose, and hair left plenty to be concerned. To her credit, she didn't jump up and rush to aid her friend, hiding a knowing smile in the least subtle of ways.

"Dare I ask?"

"It's Leif Erickson Day."

"Ah. Of course."

Silly of her to forget. Good thing Jaune reminded her as he snuffed out a tailing bit of ember at the end of his hair. He tossed whatever remained of his helmet and threw away the fiery beard. The sound of skin burning filtered in the room, but if he refused to wince, she pretended not to notice and quietly fetched the first-aid kit while he removed what remained of his armor. Some of the edges were melted, a story she couldn't wait to sink her teeth into.

When she returned to find him sitting on her bed, torso exposed with the majority of the damage clinging to his right side, Pyrrha could only imagine what Leif Erickson Day entailed. That remaining half of his armor would never see combat again. A blessing in disguise if she ever saw one. Now he could acquire substantial protection and not something that covered only his torso and back. Poorly, she added.

Thank Oum for Leif Erickson Day.

She sat next to him and dabbed open the kit, reaching for lengthy bandages, burn ointment, and an ice-pack. Pyrrha started with the packet, pressing it gently to his arm while he internally winced from the cool to hot contact. Then she instructed him to hold it there while she applied the burn ointment to his cheeks, rubbing it soothingly across his charred skin. He relaxed somewhat, and every so often she brushed ash away from his face but showed to be somewhat alright. Then she daubed some aloe vera on his nose with a cotton swab and his face contorted.

"Ow! Not so rough."

"Oops, sorry." Pyrrha checked his arm and creased her brow. "The good news is your Aura should have to fix up by tomorrow morning. Maybe even tonight if you don't strain yourself."

"... And the bad news?"

She frowned. "We're out of pain medication."

Which wouldn't be much of an issue if Vale wasn't forty minutes away by Bullhead, but Beacon Academy only carried the good stuff, and first-degree burns weren't on their radar. Not with Aura a contender to pain blockers. Plus, the air traffic on a Saturday afternoon just made things look awful in comparison. Survival of the fittest and yadda-yadda, she sympathized with her friend and swapped more ointment around his nose. He flinched a few more times before exhaling.

"I don't know how much more I can take of this. Nora's driving me up the wall with her made-up holidays. Now I see why Ren makes her an overabundance of food. It's not to feed her, but to slow her down."

Understatement of this still very young century, but she sighed, peppered a few more slabs of cream and smoothly wrapped his arm, slapping him on the back to get her point across when his vision unfocused. A head turned. A bandage placed on his nose, and she shooed away any lingering bits of volcanic ash away from his mane. Pyrrha then did a reach around and wrapped her final layers of wrappings around his torso and shoulder, simpering upon noticing his edging frown and covered face.

"Jaune, you have a heart that's three times the size of a regular person's heart. Do you know what that means?"

"That I should go to the doctor?"

Her smile stretched. "No, well, yes, but no. It means you are unable to say no."

Eyes narrowed. "Where are you going with this?"

"Nora's one to wear her emotions on her sleeves. She's an unstoppable force, and your inability to say no puts you right in her path. She'll drag you along for every adventure just like she does with Ren, but he's managed to divert her attention towards you. If I'm being entirely honest, I think he deserves the break. Dealing with Nora can't be all it's cracked up to be."

More narrowing. "What about you? Where are you during my time of need? Some help would be nice, ol partner of mine."

She lazily waved her hand in the air. "Oh, you know me. I have places to go and things to do. You know that."

Curse those places—curse those _things!_

Matriarch Arc raised no jester. He saw past her fabricated fib like a teetering house of cards. She knew it. He knew it. Teasing smiles and palm-hidden laughter betrayed him at every turn, yet Pyrrha lacked guilt throughout the body numbing ordeal, checking his bandages for tightness with harmless smirks. While she remained quiet to his pleas, acting guiltless to her filthy crime of mutiny, he called her out.

"You're throwing me under the Bullhead."

Silly Jaune. "Just say no. N-O. No. See? Easy. You could even try the Ruby Rose way and say nope. I heard that's quite effective."

"You're enjoying this."

More of a statement than a question, but she played along. "Admittedly, it's quite fun watching Nora create these new holidays. She's got a very active imagination. And if injuries of this nature persist, then I'll intervene, but right now I see no reason to stop her."

He grumpily crossed his arms as she shooed away specks of ash from his skin. "Who knew my partner was so sadistic."

"At least I'm not the masochist."

"Ha-ha, pick on the injured." Jaune thoughtfully poked her shoulder. "Maybe all your opponents already had broken bones before you fought them in all those _supposed _tournaments."

She paused and playfully rolled her eyes before resuming her treatment. "You mean the Mistral Regional Tournament? The televised tournament that thousands of people watch? That I won four times in a row? That tournament?"

"Just because you couldn't see it, doesn't mean there wasn't any foul play. I'm on to you, Miss Nikos. You can't fool me. Detective Jaune is on the case."

"You're mistaking cheating with skill, detective. It's not the first time you've done this." Pyrrha jabbed directly at his fake transcripts. "Try not to let it bother you. No one has to know. It'll be our little secret."

He softly shoved her. She shoulder bumped him back and regretted it once he cringed. Part of her desperately craved to know what Lief Erickson's Day entailed, but when he puffed out pyroclastic ash from his lungs, she figured it was better not to pry and rubbed the remainder of the aloe across his fingers. Thinking about the damage pushed her thoughts to an equally burned Nora, and she absently checked to see if they had enough aloe for a second patient.

"So? Where is Nora? I can't possibly imagine the state she's in."

He scoffed. "Ren's already treating her. She's not as banged up as me, but that's because she was further away from the explosion."

"Explosion?"

"You don't wanna know."

"I sort of do."

"Just know this, there was a lot of Dust. Lots. Too much to count."

She cocked her head to the side, unable to fathom the day her partner had. Observing the transparent clues on his person, she figured long and tedious. Possibly outrageous and near the spectrum _why, Oum, why_. Maybe some advice from the ill-legitimate Mistral Regional Tournament four-time champion might help her deluded partner. She had a few tricks up her sleeve for a rainy day. One that fancied her thoughts was the reverse. Turnabout was fair play. Nora made up holidays on the spot and dragged him along for the wild ride. By that backward logic, he should be able to do the same. Only he never thought of it, much too busy keeping himself from spontaneously combusting.

"You know." Pyrrha offered, checking his back. "Maybe you should make up a few holidays of your own. Give her a taste of her own medicine."

He scoffed with a witty retort on his rolling expert tongue but swallowed in clarity. Recognition, sweet relief spilled over him like a torrent of oasis water in a harsh, bitter desert. His body loosened with muscles retracting from overstress. A smile, his first real one since entering the room, sprouted and things quickly escalated from there. Up, up, _up!_ He jumped onto his feet and hit his palm with a fist.

"Hey? That's not just crazy enough to work, it's genius."

Pyrrha allowed the genius comment to distract her for a brief moment, but she snapped on his growing smirk. Revenge sounded fine and dandy when it came to pranks, outlets were healthy, but while the gears might be turning, she feared for the wrench that was engraved Nora Valkyrie. She appreciated the simple-mindedness of the plan, but not the poor execution.

"Careful now, Nora's not so easy to annoy. You might end up defeating yourself in the process."

He ignored her warning. "I'm sure I can think of something."

Pyrrha Nikos didn't know whether or not to concern herself over her partner's need to rub his hands together like some megalomaniac villain, only adding to his fiery, burnt appearance, but a bit too late to stop the gears now. Cogs turned. Jaune Arc, by definition of Team JNPR's totem pole, acted as the team's fearless strategist. Whatever plans he came up with made all hers pale in comparison. Having seven siblings helped with the creative juices. Knowing he entered Beacon without any prior knowledge to Aura or swordsmanship skills only showed how far he was willing to push. To think some people called him weak, a coward, and hardheaded. While one of those were true, the others failed to stick.

Maybe she should have stopped him when he grabbed a chair, sat down, and hunched over their desk to think of holidays to celebrate with Nora between fits of borderlined clownish laughter, somehow ignoring the blistering pain of a first-degree burn. She should have done a lot of things. Like not promote that unhealthy cereal or use her opponents' weapons against them? Some still had scars. Instead, she hovered over his shoulder and watched him work, fascinated by the inner workings of his mind while brushing off remnant flakes of ash from shoulders. Perhaps Jaune hit closer to home with that sadistic comment than she initially thought?

That might explain the blood-rushing joy she experienced whenever clobbering someone with their own weapon.

**...**

Revenge was a dish best served cold, or in Jaune Arc's case, at five-thirty in the morning with a potted cactus in his arms.

He named it Jim.

Mud military-style paint covered his face, and splotches of grass poked out of his sun-blessed mane. He moved, he scampered, he swift. Scruffle. Scruffle. Jaune ever so leisurely approached the corner of Nora's mattress, poking his head up from the corner with his vegetative hair acting as camouflage in the mildew twilight. Ocean blue eyes twinkled in the darkness, whirlpools of misery and joy. His target snoozed away, unaware of the dangers lurking in the carpet padded room. Then, like a wind-up Jaune-in-the-Box, he sprang forward and acted as an alarm clock, yelling at the top of his lungs to a drooling and snoring Nora.

"Happy Grass Day!"

A monarchy fell.

Nora scampered out of her bed as her sheets tangled her body in a heaping pile of limbs, screaming bloody murder. Her extra-strength bedding worked against her every inch on the way down toward the floor. Thud! Chin first, her feet dangled in the air with her upper body flat on the carpet. A twitched passed her body, followed by two. Ren and Pyrrha remained sleeping. Seconds later, once she recovered enough brainpower from massive information overload, her head shot out of the mountain of cotton, shaking back and forth in an episode of befuddlement.

"Huh! Who! What! Where! Why! How!"

Good. Jaune caught her just waking up. He leaned over her frantic form, grinning from ear to ear. "Good morning, Nora! Happy Grass Day!"

Nora blinked at the sight of her Fearless Leader, and she meant blinked. Like really, really hard. Was that a cactus in his arms? War paint. Jaune-Jaune had war paint on his cheeks. She ignored the grass sticking out his unkempt hair. By far the least strange thing to happen to her in the span of a few seconds. Turquoise zeroed in on his exuberantly bright smile, and she stretched her jaw.

Nora rubbed the Sandman's sand away from her eyes, yawning loudly with her hair frizzled-frazzled. "Jaune! What are you doing?! It's seven in the morning, and it's Saturday. Sat-ur-day. The sun's not even awake yet!"

He booped _her _on the nose.

"Exactly! What are you doing still sleeping? Grass Day's not going to celebrate itself!"

"Grass Day?" Nora parroted. "What's that?"

For some odd reason, a shiver raced down her spine from the way Jaune-Jaune's smile stretched.

The random cactus in his arms only added to the fear.

Four hours later, she struggled to remain awake. Grass Day focused on the oh-so joyous activity of watching grass grow for hours on end. Outside on their elbows. Away from other people! So far the highlight came from a passing ant crawling from blade to blade. She had named him Turnip, but he soon vanished into the green jungle and abandoned her for greener pastures. Another hour passed—make it two—and she threatened to rip her own hair out.

Boring.

Mind-numbingly dreadful, Nora felt her mind slipping from the boredom. Not moving for hours on end was slowly suffocating the life out of her. Grow, useless grass, grow! Hurry up! An inch. A centimeter. A millimeter. Anything! Just hurry up and stretch already! End her suffering now.

Nora only agreed to Grass Day out of her obligation to celebrate every holiday—made up or not—under the blazing sun, but this was pushing it too far. Who enjoyed this stuff? Maniacs, that was who. Just look at her leader, resting his face on his elbows in an intense staring match with a blade of grass. She scoffed, and she thought Pyrrha was boring after catching her reading for fun. Blake, she understood. Smut—_ahem_—literature added spice to a tiresome day, but no amount of juicy details or under the desk writing could replace the thrill of doing things, and how she missed moving.

_Groan!_

For the love of Monty Oum, grow!

Across the courtyard, resting her feet in the brisk fountain water, Pyrrha pitied her fellow female. Watching the grass grow? Brutal. More so considering who she was, a firecracker with the inability to stay still for mere minutes at a time. She had to give credit where credit was due. Her partner—her leader—knew how to hit and how to hit hard. Deceitfully devious of him to use the cactus to hide his face. Maybe Nora would have noticed her leader sleeping, but not a chance between that prickly pine. So she kept on staring, eyes bloodshot with him waking up from his nap a quarter past one. He absently checked the time on his Scroll and nodded in approval, hiding a yawn.

"Hey, hey!" Jaune teased. "The grass grew an inch, looks like we can pack it up and leave."

"Finally!" Nora never sprung to her legs so fast. "Oum! I'm out of here! Kitchen, here I come!"

He gripped her wrist. "Hold up, Nora. Not so fast. Before you head off, make sure you remember to sleep early for tomorrow's fun holiday. I want you well rested for tomorrow."

Her energy sapped. Another holiday so soon?

Tomorrow?

"What's tomorrow?"

"Paint Dry Day."

She visibly hiccuped. Paint Dry Day? Paint Dry Day! What kind of cruel hell was this? What happened to variety, to fun? She was _this _close to strangling his windpipe. None of this was enjoyable, quite the opposite. Almost as if he was attempting to break—oh. _Oh!_ Sneaky. So? That was Jaune-Jaune's game? Break her until she snapped. Drive her nuts and into a straightjacket. Ha! Not on his boring life. Paint Dry Day? Child's play!

Nora wickedly grinned.

Ren never challenged her open wackiness, always following the path of least resistance. Made for everlasting adventures, but staleness could be a stick in the mud. Jaune, however, grew up with seven sisters. Seven of them. He thrived on the randomness of it all. Up, down, and all around, her Fearless Leader grabbed the Boarbatusk by the horns and mushed. Not her style. Ursa Major was more up her alley, but she was game.

"Can't wait."

**...**

Things hit a nine-point five on the weirdness scale.

Ren and Pyrrha watched from the sidelines as the holidays slowly turned into that of competition. Gone went the random, fun games.

On-upping the other became the prime definition of a holiday, fascinating to watch, more interesting to hear the festivities they created on a whim. Some were impressive. Others were downright cruel. All in all, their greatest weapon came from their overactive imagination. Nora possessed absurdity to the tenth degree, but Jaune thought outside of the fourth dimension. Who would cry foul out first? Ren put his lien on Jaune for the sake of shattering normalcy. Pyrrha regretfully betted on Nora. Insanity had no limit. Persistence, while an admirable quality in the fight against the Grimm, faltered beneath Nora's queen complex madness. Delusion drowned the strongest of wills.

To prove their point, Ren and Pyrrha remained dutifully quiet as Jaune ate Nora's pancakes and in an obnoxiously boisterous manner. _Trade Food Day_ never sounded so absurdly nefarious until someone watched Team JNPR's leader mock his teammate in the openness of the Mess Hall. Clever? Definitely. Suicidal? Well, this was the guy who entered Beacon Academy with nothing but the clothes on his back, an ancestral sword, and blind optimism. Again, proving their point, he chewed loudly just for Nora.

"Mmmm! So good. It's like a flavor party in my mouth. Ren made them special today. What's the secret ingredient, Ren? Your leader demands to know."

Ren played along. Lien was on the line. "Today, I used Red Sap as a syrup."

Jaune gulped down the rich tenderness. "Well, it shows. I could eat this all day. Maybe I will. How does that sound, Nora?"

Nora's mouth literally watered at the thought of Red Sap covered pancakes, but she reeled herself in and scowled down at the waffles covering her plate. Grabbing fluffy goodness wouldn't help her one bit, not with Jaune stealing her food before she even sat down. Temptation to stab him with her fork grew by the second, one little twist and turn and jab, right in the gut. She only needed a second before anyone could stop her.

Nora alternatively stabbed her waffles with enough force to crack the plate underneath. "I'll remember this when it's my turn."

Remember she did, exacting her revenge during Doctor Oobleck's class the following day. _Taking the Blame Day_ was in full effect when she threw a paper ball right for the good Doctor's head, shushing the class in eerie silence as it bounced off his hair and plopped right down into his coffee mug. Not even Oobleck, for all his infinite wisdom and exceptional relapse time, knew how to react to the bizarre and traitorous action committed by one of his dear students. His glasses fogged considerably with the air turning stale. One small turn of his body, posture bending, and eyebrows knitting shushed the entire room with a fear befitting an alpha Grimm.

"Who was that? Speak now, or your punishment will be more severe."

"It was Jaune!" Nora promptly answered. She stood up and pointed to the doey-eyed Arc, hands slapping wood. "He did it. Right, Fearless Leader?"

"What? Uh?" Jaune glanced down and found a haphazardly written script for him to read with the title _Taking the Blame Day_ written in bold lettering. He sighed before clearing his throat. "Right. It was me, Jaune Arc, leader of Team JNPR. Stealer of food, and—ummm? I can't read that. Is that a V or U—_anyways_, I did it. Sorry, I don't know what came over me. It'll never happen again."

"That's a month of Saturday detention."

He expected nothing less and sunk into his seat while Nora giggled silently in the background. Oobleck hummed, turned his back, and resumed with his lecture. All was normal in the history drowned classroom again, but curious emerald eyes watched in fascination as Nora tore off a second paper from her rarely used notebook. Pyrrha considered aiding her partner when Nora prepared a second paper ball, this time twice the size, but lien never betrayed anyone. Better to focus on something else, like Doctor Oobleck's thermos. When she squinted hard enough, she saw splotches of Nora's writing on the side of his mug. _Jaune Arc and Nora Valkyrie were here!_ Circled in a messily drawn heart of pink.

_Plop!_

Pyrrha visibly hid her smirk when her partner groaned and slammed his head on his desk. Easy lien.

...

_Switch Outfit Day_ turned out better for Jaune than it did Nora.

Walking Beacon's hallways in his clothing somehow backfired. While his overstuffed clothing hid her tinier figure better than her skirt and jacket combo did for him, he rocked the combat skirt and stretched her favorite undershirt. Ha-ha. Just like the ballroom dance. Mr. Tall, Blond and Scraggly acted all confident in pink. People laughed, but fewer than before, and some openly gawked. Others ignored the randomness. Was it weird they both had short hair? Somehow she felt like a fish out of water in his baggy hoodie and jeans, a Grimm crashing a human party. Arg! His useless pants kept falling! No wonder he wore two belts and not the one, and why were the sleeves so long? Not that she cared, actually preferring their length to flap them in excitement, but Nora persisted and bamboozled everyone in all her five-foot-one awesomeness.

Yup-yup! She flipped his hoodie over her eyes, acting sinister with her smirk gleaming through the opened gap. Not a victory, but not a defeat. Stalemate. So with a draw at hand, she savored the fun in wearing her leader's clothing, never realizing how unfathomably comfy his Pumpkin Pete hoodie felt around her tender body. Softness between every thread treated her like a princess, and the lingering aroma of summer tickled her nose. Smelled just like Jaune, but everywhere and all at once. Not a horrible scent. A good one. A _really _good one. Nora inhaled a whiff of the odor from the flaps of her sleeves, shivering in delight, eyes closed and smile pressed up against the stitches.

If there was anything positive to gain out of this, her leader smelled nice.

A delightful smell, a real treat on her nostrils. Not to mention, he had that tallness and furnace-like quality going for him. Quality? Tall? Huh? What-the-what? Did she just think—nu-uh. Nora shot him a non-sneaky glance from underneath his hoodie. _Inhale! _Denying it would be fruitless, especially to an emotion wearing sleeve girl like her. Now that she got a decent look at Jaune, her tiny shirt worked wonders for him. Stretching fabric accentuated his torso, not allowing any room for breathing. Girth around the shoulders exposed lean, mean fighting machines usually hidden underneath the hoodie, impressive, like the rest of his body. Yup with a popping P, he rocked that outfit better than she did for his. Not fair? Possibly. Maybe?

No.

A bit of muscle on the side never hurt anyone, eye candy for her. The l_ook but don't touch_ rule never applied to her per se, but the urge to reach out and smother those arms, maybe pinch them or run a ringer through the crevice of beefy muscle, almost overpowered her sense of reason, but she resisted the temptation and slapped herself silly with the flapping sleeves. Must be the overbearing hoodie and overpowering aroma. Too hot all around. Yeah. Heat under the collar, that was the culprit to her reddening cheeks. Steam from her ears was just a troublesome side-effect from sniffing the overly stretched sleeves.

_Exhale!_

"Not your best idea, Nora."

Gone went the troubling emotions, and in its place stood an orange-headed nymph wearing clothes three sizes too big for her. She stood on her toes, poking him extra-firm on the chest with a sleeve covered finger. Her hoodie glare, only matched by her flaming blush and hidden eyes, added to the flare as she jabbed between each syllable spoken. Poke. Poke. Poke.

"And what's that supposed to mean? Huh? Huh!"

Jaune Arc, dressed as an over-sized Nora Valkyrie, shrugged. "Your holiday, Nora, it's boring. I don't know. I expected better from you."

Gasp! She took two steps back, clutching her aching heart. B-B-Boring?! Her? Nora Valkyrie, dressed in Jaune Arc's clothing? Boring? Unforgivable. Her desire for fun adventures, and to turn the world upside down, occasionally tilt it on its axis every so often, demanded her and _boring _to never be used in the same sentence. Somehow her combat skirt-wearing leader missed that memo. Somehow he missed many memos.

Challenging him with unorthodox holidays and playing his games pushed for over the top fun, but she aimed to win.

An entire semester of Saturday detention failed to crush his spirits. Humiliation bounced off him like rubber. So he expected better? Her A-game? The cream of the crop, the bee's knees, the—blah, blah, blah! Fine! No more screwing around, tomorrow's holiday would dethrone his cocky attitude.

Nora promised this as her twin-belted pants dropped between her ankles.

...

_Slam!_

The bathroom door burst open with Nora rushing inside, before banging the door shut with her back pressed against the wood. She undressed and jumped into the shower in record time, sighing contently underneath the barrage of water droplets splashing her heated skin. Brrrr! Refreshing! Cold water never felt so riveting. So yummy on her aching nerves. She opened her mouth to swish the water high-spiritedly, yet her mood soured, and she ended up spitting the water out in annoyance.

Somehow she burned up underneath the misty shower, and she stood there, under the icy torrent, biting her lip, arms crossed, and pout adorable. Today had been a wash, pun very much intended. Nothing was working. Nope. No signs of Jaune-Jaune hesitating. Not a flinch, or a twitch, or a muscle spasm of any kind. Drat! Double drat! She kicked away a bar of soap and drenched her hair in orange-scented shampoo. Her fury cooled underneath the soap duds and water. Digging fingers helped, too.

Nora admitted her wackadoodle leader had guts. The sturdy and squishy kind. Squish, squish. She thought for sure he would have caved during _Stand in One-Hundred Degree Weather While Wearing Five Layers of Clothing Day_. Heck! After her Aura reversed the second heatstroke, her legs gave out, but she remained dutifully behind as he sweated his sweaty socks off in the blazing, unforgiving sun. Not even his cactus stood rigid in the record-breaking heat. No matter how much she pushed, prodded, poked, or provoked, he never took the bait.

Humph!

Shaking underneath the water, Nora slapped her puffed cheeks together and blew out air. The only time she recalled him floundering was during Piggyback Day. Dumb-Dumb stunk at physical contact. That much was undeniable to a Valkyrie who observed the master of silence for years. Awkward stillness never bothered her, not like her leader. His heart had raced faster than Ruby's mad running Semblance. Partially her fault for resting her funbags on his back and then head, but bras itched. Not like he cared—wait! He _had _cared. Affirmative! Physical contact wobbled his resolve. More could only break him entirely and grant her free reign over the holidays.

Nora smirked with her soapy hair covering her eyes.

Push, prod, poke, and provoke didn't work, but _perverse _had yet to walk up to the pancake filled plate.

Plan in mind, she threw her head back and lathered, rinsed, and repeated, catching that familiar scent from the first shampoo bottle she managed to grab. Mmmm. Smelled just like him, down to the musky scent exposed in his clothing, and she recalled the way she poked a hard chest. That shirt and her jab left little to the imagination. Touching and rubbing other parts of his body sounded fun.

She couldn't wait to sink her claws into him tomorrow.

...

The next Saturday afternoon, Jaune Arc walked into his team's room, after serving his mandatory detention, and found no sign of the apocalypse outside his window or around the bedroom.

Today Nora had control over the holiday shtick. A two-for-one. Whatever horrible or inhumane day she had planned, he stood firm and ready. Cactus unhesitant, he dressed in his weekend clothes and strapped his blade on for a precaution. _Chase Grimm Day_ still haunted his dreams since he had foolishly discarded Crocea Mors in the room that day. Beowolves never ran away from a lone noodle. Ursai told boogieman equivalent tales about Nora.

Little did he know, she had hidden behind the opening of the door, only now realizing his folly once she flung the door closed with a sharp kick with her foot. He turned. She grinned. Her innocent smile stretched, far too devious to be harmless. A hand reflexively gripped the handle of Crocea Mors, but she shattered grand delusion without thinking it over.

"Nora Hug Day!"

"Nora Hug Day?" Jaune blinked. "Nora Hug Day?"

She never missed a beat. "Yup! I get unlimited hugs all day. On demand. Whenever I want. Where I want. Anytime I want. Got it?"

Not at all to what he was thinking, but his fingers relaxed on Crocea Mors' grip, along with his shoulders. "Uh, sure. Okay. Yeah, Nora Hug Day. So when do you want a—?"

"Now!"

"Oh?! Alright."

He gingerly opened his arms, waiting for the inevitable, but Nora remained standing and shook her head roguishly. An impish simper simmered, and she hobbled on the soles of her boots impatiently with her hands bunched together behind her arched back. Took him the better part of a minute to figure out her game. So she demanded he came to her and embraced her from the front? No finger lifting from her. Calling it surprising would be a flat out lie, and Jaune moved four steps before wrapping his arms around her shoulders in a delicate—pushy arms shoved him away.

"No, no, no, silly, a real hug. Don't give me the grandma discount. Make it count!"

Part of his pride took a hit. Grandma Arc cherished his hugs, pinched cheeks told the tale. Humph! Make it count? Challenge accepted. Long arms rushed out and pulled her in tight, throwing away delicacy for support and firmness. She blinked from the sudden display of bravery, glancing up from his chest with her lower jaw hidden underneath the bunny's logo and worn threading. Both his arms had wrapped around her head, forcing her body to lean into his. Slowly, ever so gently, cautious that might burst his brain from sensory overload, she slivered her hands around his torso, eyes curving upward from the way his heart sped up. Seconds turned into a minute with him refusing to make eye-contact as she had yet to let go.

Nora melted into the rare embrace.

Not part of her plan. Things already worked to her advantage and then some with the thumping against her nose, but she couldn't recall the last time someone hugged her back. People yelped every time she embraced them, turning into a flurry of emotions, but no one ever returned the favor, not even Ren, except now. Jaune-Jaune's hug? It felt nice. Safe. Toe-curling good. How long? How long since someone held her so close with such comfort? Memories failed her. Nora had forgotten how warm and fuzzy hugs were, and she refused to give it up now. If not for his clumsiness to touch, she would have remained glued to his chest for an hour. Maybe two. Instead, she broke apart and slapped his chest before shooing away and holding back laughter from the way his cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

Nora planned to milk this day until the noodle ran dry.

Best holiday ever!

"You better keep those arms warm, because I'm going for a record-breaker."

He said nothing, hugging her a third time when she smushed her face against his torso. This time she rolled her body into his, not shying away from physical contact, derailing his train of thought from the way she showed affection. He never checked Nora into the same category of cute, until now. When he glanced away, finding the infinite specks of dust in the ceiling more interesting than the way snuggled for seconds longer than average, she smirked and extended the embrace until it became much too hot to bear. Good thing she had the whole day to cool down and eat her fill. Fingers dug into his shoulder blades at the thought.

The moment she released him, he practically bolted out the door and toward a random direction. She stayed close behind, jumping up to wrap her arms around his neck only seconds after their last embrace. He just knew that today was going to be a long day when she wrapped her legs around his waist and giggled into his neck, making him stumble.

Several hours later, between the hallways of Beacon with his guard up, he traveled between the flurry of unknown faces with his head lowered and cheeks refusing to cool down. Jaune Arc never knew hugs came in all shapes and sizes. Everyone comprehended about the standard chest-to-chest hug, but the reach around embrace or glomp surprised him when they happened, especially when Nora took a running start and crashed him into the floor. Oh? Here she came for the second one of those, and he had no other choice but to throw his arms open and—glomp!

_Thud!_

Down he went, crashing against the floor with her cheek squished firmly against his. Rub. Rub. Rub. Nora showed no mercy, sighing while her body laid squarely on top of his with her arms wrapped slothfully around his neck and legs pinning his waist down. He remained flat on the floor, trying not to think about the passion she shared or how she straddled him. Why she created _Nora Hug Day_ eluded him so, but he both despised and enjoyed every bit of it. Most people thought guys hated affection, but that couldn't be further from the truth. They didn't hate it, they craved it. Once she hopped up and skedaddled away, he rubbed his neck and cursed himself for already missing the magical touch of her soft skin. Just like Piggyback Day, but one-hundred times worse.

Any attempts of not thinking about taking her into his arms and squeezing her tight failed miserably.

Even the mightiest of creatures turned into drool machines when scratched behind the ears or held dotingly, and he confirmed to be no exception. Something about holding Nora close made it impossible not to smile. Side hugs, where she wrapped her arms around his body from the corner, not the front or back, stretched that ever-growing simper. Disloyal blood rushed to his cheeks from the softness of her body, but nothing compared to the embraces that left his heart thumping loudly in his ears.

So far he tomatoed at the infamous arm squeeze. Walking around Beacon with Nora hugging the life out of his arm, hadn't been the primary issue, her lack of modesty caused the problems. Clutching his arm sounded tame from the start, then he had noticed by clasping his arm, her frame melded into his skin. Bounciness rubbed against muscle. Softness, added with unforgiving warmth, forced him to look away while she squeezed and caressed his arm with tantalizing light fingers. When she leaned her head on his shoulders, that was when he figured out how much trouble he could expect. Hugs were childish gestures meant to convey trust and security, but Nora twisted them for evil purposes.

He accepted her game and fought with fire of his own.

Not really. No. Jaune's clinches worked against him too. When she sprinted forward, dived, and encircled her limbs around his upper physique, grinding her generous chest against his face, hugging back did nothing but push him deeper into jiggling madness and irresistibly thick thighs. Fighting fire with fire? Useless.

Once those greedy arms entangled him, he faltered. Glomps weakened his resolve. Adorable embraces left him a red-faced mess. Any part where she touched his body, running ravenous fingers across his hair, neck, torso or arm, further shoved him deeper into the Velvet's hole. Jaune didn't know how much he could take before admitting defeat. Hearts could only take so much punishment before bursting open, and his already leaked.

He had to discover a way to hug her without her hugging back.

An enigma, maybe a paradox, but one such cuddle existed. Timing was everything when it came to performing this one, but his time was cut short when he rounded a corner and found her sprinting toward him. Now or nothing. Nora then rocketed forward, arms greedily out, like a torpedo ready to bombard her defenseless leader.

Tch! Not this time.

_Crash!_

Feet dug into the ground to halt her momentum, resisting turbulence as her tiny body collided upon his. His legs buckled for the briefest of seconds, sliding against the floor before he gained his footing. Time stood still in the hallway once he came to a screeching halt. She blinked upon her newest position.

Fuzzy. Warm. Mmmmm.

Only a few of the mind-numbing sensations she felt whenever trapped between his arms, but this one took the Red Sapped cake. Not from the brazen tactic or his ability to withstand her tackle, but from the absurdity of her position. The awkward angle made returning the favor a mooted one, and Nora froze due to his extraordinarily rare, bold smirk. Bulky arms squeezed her lithe waist, holding her figure up from off the floor. Her feet dangled with palms pressed flatly against his chest, much too stunned for words. Unless Nora felt like hunching forward and clumsily squeezing his head, she had no choice but to limp in his hold. Not such a horrible way to misuse a hug—eep!

Her chest nearly exploded into a supernova risque light when he buried his nose into her stomach, shoving so much tender loving affectionate into her smooth, slender frame that it left her paralyzed for more. Now her heart stammered. Now her face tomatoed. Now everything rushed like the blood in her ears to the gentle curl of her toes. Her lips actually wobbled. He noticed none of it, grinning in victory while keeping her up and never ever letting go.

"Caught you."

Nora's cheeks remained honeysuckle red, but her dumbfounded posture relaxed. Flat fingers dug into his hoodie with her feet kicking up, and she rested her bum on his arms, sharing in the joyous celebration. Somehow he figured out her plan. Good, good. Exactly what Nora expected from her Fearless Leader, but the unique nuzzle had been an unexpected and exhilarating surprise.

She laughed and _booped _him on the nose once he separated from her stomach. Jaune Arc caught her for now, but tomorrow was a brand new holiday. Lightning was unpredictable. Fast, blazing, hot. Anything could happen. Hugs were just the beginning.

Nora Valkyrie would make sure of that.

"Boop."

* * *

**Author Notes:** Imagine **Cherry**, but in **Nora's Arc** form, and masquerade in the subtlety of holidays. Also, expect a serious **Nora's Arc** main story called **Orange **to be added to the mix of **Blue, White **and **Silver**.


	2. Ginger

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of RWBY.

**Ginger**

**By: Imyoshi**

Preparing for the inevitable came with its own set of whacky rules.

One of the unwritten rules was no holiday was worth celebrating before nine in the morning unless food related. Holidays were strictly off-limits during exams days. No more messing with Doctor Oobleck as he had taken up with his infinitely unfair authority to punish both of them for what evil deeds they committed on the good doctor. Switching Yang Xiao Long's shampoo with purple dye was only funny once, and Blake Belladonna only kept her mouth shut if tuna was involved, jumping back to the Yang incident as they had no tuna to bribe the feline.

Other than that, everything was fair game.

To start off, they purchased a blank calendar and took turns filling in the dates, coordinating from one day to the other, making sure no one had two holidays back-to-back, except for Sunday.

Sunday was _Laze in your Pajamas Day_, no exceptions.

Today was Nora Valkyrie's turn, and to celebrate, _Feed Me Day_ came into full effect that breakfast morning.

**...**

_Munch!_

In Nora's humble and unbiased opinion, every day should be _Feed Me Day_.

She considered this splendid notion as Jaune fork-fed her a portion of her breakfast, fluffy pancakes galore. Hands? Not for her today. Nora accessorized with the all-new Jaune Arc two-point-o'. Hands-free, dependable, and a noodle, guaranteed to brighten up anyone's morning. No manual included. Best of all, he cooked.

Nora appreciated his skillset the minute he walked to the kitchen and returned with her breakfast. Jaune-Jaune had sliced-and-diced her pancakes into square-shaped morsels, perfect for fork stabbing goodness. Her excellence approved of the non-choking variant of eating. Better to chew, safer to swallow. Queen Nora hummed and said the magic words once he sat down.

"Food!"

_Gulp!_

Mmmmm! She shivered in toe-curling delight from the perfectly cooked lumberjacks exploding on her hungry taste buds. Tasty! Yum. Nora opened her mouth for another piece, and he obliged, stuffing her face full of buttery goodness. Mmmm-mmm-mmm! Eating food was wondrous, but having someone feed her had her nerves tingling in rhapsody. Jaune tried not to grin while doing it, acting his worst to hate the holiday, but pretending to be mad at crammed cheeks was asking for the unthinkable.

Some holidays weren't all bad.

"Drink!"

Nora watched him put down the fork before retrieving her double-pulped orange juice, dangling the straw near her syrup-covered lips. He drew the line at napkins. Fine by her, she slurped her juice down with a harmless grin, not lifting a single finger. Today she had him booked for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Maybe brunch or brinner if she felt inclined to experience _Feed Me Day_ to the utmost fullest.

Snacks included.

"When do I get to eat?"

"Never! Food!"

Sigh. Giggle! Another square forkful, another chomp down on delicious happiness. Nora vibrated in her seat and chewed thoroughly, loudly, and with great vigor. She kicked her feet out underneath the wooden table, simpering with a satisfied sigh. He shared in her happiness, hungry but understanding of his position for today's holiday. Tomorrow would be his turn, but Nora ruled the day with an iron fist and teasing grin.

She was pleasantly surprised when Jaune offered her beverage without asking. Nora still yelled out _drink _before wrapping her lips around the straw, keeping up the tradition of a one-hour old holiday. So far she had yet to move her arms, using them as balancers on her seat to wobble back-and-forth, matching the gentleness to her humming tune. Wobble. Wobble. _Food!_

Jaune held the fork back from an impatient Nora, glancing down at his own meal. "You know my food's getting cold?"

"You should have thought of that before making these taste so-so good."

He grumbled. "As much as I appreciate the kind words, I'm hungry."

"So am I." Nora added. "Food!"

Somehow innocent and devious at the same time, Nora Valkyrie knew how to twists the holidays to her favor. Her harmless grin turned mischievous. Jaune racked his brain for an answer before adding a smirk of his own. He stabbed not one, not two, not three, but four squarely shaped pieces of pancake, stuffing her mouth to maximum capacity. Nora accepted the challenge. She chewed her fastest while her leader wolfed down whatever food he could in the shortest time. He managed one bite of his toast before her voice rang true.

"Drink!"

Nora grinned in syrupy-stained victory, teeth messy. Ha! Challenging her eating capabilities was like beating Pyrrha in a fight. Never going to happen, but she gave him props for stealing a bite. It wouldn't happen again under her rule, so he better appreciate her mercy and savor every chew of that icky toast offered. Still, Queen Nora was an impatient majesty and demanded her thirst quenched. Humphing, arms crossed, he got the message and reached for her juice, but not before squinting his eyes on a stain covering her cheek.

"Hold up. You got a little..." Jaune dabbed a napkin on her cheek and cleaned off the residue syrup. "There."

"What happened to no napkins?"

He playfully rolled his eyes and pressed the straw to her waiting lips. Nora didn't question the good luck and grinned around the straw. Across from them, Pyrrha and Ren remained stoic to the entire display, sharing a passing glance unreadable to the untrained eye with their meals left untouched.

"Should we tell them the whole Mess Hall is staring?" Pyrrha whispered.

"They'll figure it out... eventually."

"Food!"

Lunch turned out differently due to Nora's nearsightedness to not include her name in _Feed Me Day_, skipping her turn with fair turnabout.

Somehow she managed to bend the rules to her favor and turn it into an embarrassing nightmare for her leader.

"Say... ahhhhh!"

"Nora, I'm not a child."

"Then stop acting like one and eat."

Jaune refused with his arms crossed and posture rigidly stiff. Nora only poked the side of his cheek with her trusty fork, squishing jiggly jello against stubborn skin. _Stab! Stab! Stab!_ He foolishly turned his head, accidentally making her jab him on the cheek instead of his mouth. His fault, not hers. Nora pursued the matter, smirking that gigawatt grin in all showboating wonder. She began mimicking a Bullhead with her fork and impersonating voices.

"Vroom! Vroom! Mayday! Mayday! Captain, we're under attack by Nevermores. Schzt!" Nora switched her voice to something scruffy. "Prepare for an emergency landing. Brace for impact."

Jaune found himself stuck in a messy crossroads. Either he swallowed his pride and played her ridiculous game of _Emergency Bullhead Crash Landing_ or allowed the legendary crew of the S.S. Arc suffer to the unforgiving beasts of the sky. Decisions, decisions. Orange-flavored jello tempted his lips with Nora inching the dessert closer to his mouth, hiding mostly underneath the table with only her arm and eyes popping out. A barrel-roll, then two, and sugary, succulent gelatin awaited for the bay doors to open.

_Sigh._

"Ahhhhh!"

Nora seized her opportunity and fired her thrusters to one-hundred and twenty-three percent. Take off! Whoosh! Squarely blobs of jello crashed into his mouth, safely escaping the horde of nasty Grimm. Wait a blasted minute? More ships were coming in for a clitter-clatter landing, zooming down to join their orange-flavored brethren. One scoop. Two scoops. Three scoops and four, she stuffed his cheeks full of grateful blobs. Yum-yum. She switched her tactics and reached for his beverage, sliding it toward her leader so he could fitly refuel his engine.

Jaune frowned throughout the whole ordeal, slurping his soda through a straw with his cheeks expanded from having five bite-sized servings of jello stuffed inside.

Giggling, Nora jumped out from her hidey-hole and stabbed her own food while he chewed a squishy mess of sugars and sweets. No better time to eat than when her leader was busy un-stuffing his face. Yup-yup! Someone had to consume this double-decker sandwich. Protein built muscle. Nora Valkyrie was all strength, a lean, mean Grimm-killing machine, ergo, eating something twice the size of her head made splitting hair sense. Her mouth stretched over the massive feast before chomping down with that of a crocodile's bite. Like her leader, her cheeks exploded, but unlike Jaune-Jaune, she grinned. Not to mention, she chewed her food way faster than him, matching his gulping time just in time for reinforcements.

"Who's ready for seconds?" Nora sing-songed, twirling a fork of noodly spaghetti.

"Not yet—mmrgh!"

She mockingly cringed. "Ew, rude. No talking with your mouth full, Jaune. It's bad manners. Uh?" Nora paused, pointing indiscreetly at the dangling strand of spaghetti. "You got a little something right there."

He glared when she twirled her fork around the lonesome strand and pressed it against his mouth. Those eyes narrowed when she congratulated herself by pampering his mouth with a napkin. They squinted when Nora innocently devoured another bite of her abnormally large sandwich, chewing with wide eyes and not a devious bone in her body, blinking when she found him staring. She paused, dangling some bacon bits from her puckered lips, and tentatively offered him a drink of his soda with a teasing shake.

He said not a word and bit down on the straw.

Across from them, not Ren or Pyrrha, but the members of Team RWBY stared.

Yang hadn't a clue. Teasing them felt, well, not wrong, but useless, like doing so would make her look like some dumb blond. Blake offered no input. She ate her tuna in peace, enjoying the stunned silence of her partner. Rarities must be experienced, not captured. Weiss was the only one to show some facial reaction, twitching her eyebrows with a vein bulging from the disgustingly sweet display in front of her. Not out of jealousy, but people were trying to eat.

Only their leader reacted.

Ruby turned to her partner with clasped hands and glittering silver eyes. Weiss' face refused to move a muscle for her partner with the hotty Heiress dabbing her lips in expertise. Carefully, she dipped her butter knife down on her carrot cake, slicing in perfect cuts. Her fingers tested the fork before plucking her meal away from her plate and into her waiting mouth. Puckered lips wrapped around a silver utensil. Humph. She chewed her creamy treat, swallowed the dessert slowly, and gently, but firmly stood her ground with eyes laced in nonchalant, killjoy resolve.

"No."

Ruby predictably grabbed her combat sleeve. "Aw! Please, Weiss! We'll call it a team bonding exercise. Here, I'll go first."

"No. That's not the point. I'm not feeding you—ack! Watch where you're sticking that, you dolt—Ruby!" Weiss shielded herself from her partner's failed attempts at playing Bullhead with her spoon. "_Ruby!_"

"Hold still and let me feed you!"

Weiss pressed a palm against Ruby's mouth, keeping her at arm's length with her partner shaking the cake-filled spoon uselessly, but messily. Crème spilled all over the troublesome partners with their noisy ruckus attracting both Jaune and Nora's attention, who stopped chewing to watch the display, joining Yang and Blake. More flan stuck to Weiss and Ruby, dripping down their cheeks and onto their outfits. Some got in their hair. Most ended up around but not in their mouths. Nora gulped down her food first and leaned toward Jaune, using her palm as a buffer for her voice.

"Should we tell them the whole Mess Hall is staring?" Nora whispered.

"They'll figure it out... eventually."

For dinner, to split the day evenly, against Nora's pettiness, they shared in the limitless fun, meaning they took turns feeding the other.

Fatty meals past by fast, smaller portions so they could feast on delicious desserts. Currently, Nora rested her jaw on her elbows, offering one of those eyes-closed smiles as she impatiently waited for Jaune to get with the memo and dip that fork into the treat, swinging her feet beneath the table. Her mouth opened when she sniffed the incoming aroma, _ahhhing _as he stuffed her piehole with cherry pie. _Chew! Chew! Chew!_ She swallowed. She trembled. Her toes curled along with her fingers. Then Nora sighed and opened her eyes to notice Jaune waiting his turn, only he didn't have his mouth open yet.

Double huh?

How to feed him? No open mouth meant no food. Hn? Oh! Whelp! Jaune-Jaune should know better than to let her improvise. It was his own fault really. So when she grabbed his slice of cream pie, he should have thought twice instead of waiting for her to cut it with a lousy knife. Ha. Ha-ha. Nora smashed the cake into his face, acting deviously adorable in their little game. Oops, all over it went, not leaving an inch of his skin free.

Jaune blinked with cream filling masking his face in splendid, mouth-watering awe. She giggled in the background, tracing her index finger down the side to scoop up a generous portion before plopping it into her simpering mouth, biting her digit with a growing smirk. She went in for seconds, using her pinkie this time, twirling her finger with a lopsided delight.

"Oops, my finger slipped."

Jaune didn't even think about it, reaching for the carrot cake and smacking her face entirely. "Mine, too."

Nora copied his reaction, face matching her vibrant hair. Turquoise eyes blinked in a sea of carrot. Smirking, she plucked his milkshake and poured it over his head, adding a little whip to that cream. To her credit, she added a cherry on top, right on his nose. He retaliated by grabbing a stick of butter and mashing it deep within her hair. She only grabbed some of her carrot facial and rubbed more on his cheeks with him doing the same, turning faces of white and orange into mismatched plates of food, and somewhere between it all, they laughed. All that food wasted, but neither refused to stop.

Then Jaune regarded the stillness of the Mess Hall, paused, and glanced around the room. Eyes were upon them from every student with the leader only now noticing their missing friends. He leaned over and whispered-yelled through layers of frosting.

"Nora? Psst! Nora, everyone's staring at us."

She paused right before smashing his face in with a coconut bar and bashfully looked around the Mess Hall. No one noticed her blushing cheeks, thankfully covered by a layer of food, and she nodded her head. One, two, three, she sat on her seat and shrugged her shoulders.

"Hn? Jealous jellyfish. Ignore them. Jelly?"

She offered him the last of their meal, a slab of jelly that somehow escaped the food fight unscathed. Not the most appealing of meals, but his stomach rumbled from not actually eating any of the food. So he accepted the food and searched for something to add with the topping, finding nothing else around the table except for her messy face. He reflected. Huh? Now there was an idea. Without thinking about it, he reached out and grabbed some of the food off her face. Chomp! Hn? A mix of everything, but not the worse food he ever had, nothing compared to his sister's cooking.

Somehow, covered in creamy desserts, her smile radiated. Nora loved the fun, showing it well with her light-the-room personality. Part of him shared in her honesty. While being covered in food wasn't his shining moment, the appeal left a pleasant taste in his mouth. She thought so too, dipping food off his face as he did hers and ate it with the jam. Where she found the cracker, he would never know, but the satisfying _crunch _it made between her teeth made him stop and stare. Like really, really stare.

Between the mounds of cream, carrot, jam, coconut, and butter, Nora appeared at home. He couldn't put his finger on it. Was it the spark in her eyes? The megawatt smile? Her lightning trapped in a bottle personality? He just didn't know. Happiness clung to her like static, and whenever she brushed or bruised him, some shocked his nerves. Tingly. Made him want to keep the fun going until one of them passed out from holiday exhaustion, and with her infinite energy and his extraordinary Aura reserves, competition reigned high.

Reading his mind, Nora tiptoed her fingers across the table, pretending they had feet and waltzed up his arm until she reached his shoulder and poked him softly in the cherry-covered nose.

"Boop."

…

"Tell me again why we're doing this?"

By this, he meant walking down an ill-fated flight of stairs to Beacon's basement—half boiler room—dressed in his Pumpkin Pete onesie with added gizmos and gadgets Nora had secret-borrowed from their friends. Only his head flashlight shone in the darkness, somehow adding ominous undertone to the surprisingly long stairway. Where or how she knew where to find this place still surprised him. Spooky spiders. Creepy crawlers. Just a few of the things lurking in the darkness.

Nora paused, turned on her heels, and placed her hands on her hips in her ghost-hunting gear. "To hunt Geist, duh. Geisthunting is a gold mine waiting to happen. We need experience to get better, and Beacon's basement is sure to be filled to the brim with Geists!"

Trying to take her seriously was somewhat challenging. While Jaune's outfit included a belt buckle to hold his an extra set of batteries and Pyrrha's sash for dramatic poses, her idea, not his, Nora's Geisthunting wardrobe came stocked with her nighties, Ruby's cape and Yang's gauntlets to, and he quoted, _squeeze the life out of all the filthy Geists she got her hands on_. She had her headlight pushed to the side, dangerous on a dimly lit stairway. Somehow the drip-drop of the leaky pipes didn't scare her like the goosebumps shivering up his arm but fear quickly replaced with skepticism.

Filled with Geists?

He found that impossible to believe. Grimm inside Beacon Academy? That deserved a _ha_. Still, reasoning was a one-way street with Nora, and he learned it was better to ask the more vital questions that dwell on the _huh_.

"Ignoring the fact that what you said made no sense, no one's even paying us."

She waved her hand. "Publicity, dummy. We'll do it for free the first few times, and cha-ching, all the lien for the taking. Our Scrolls will be ringing nonstop."

Jaune held his tongue. Non-stop Scroll ringing? If that was even feasibly the case, then Remnant had way more problems to deal with than pesky Grimm. Huff. He pinched his eyebrows and followed Nora Geisthunter Valkyrie down the steps, wondering how the heck _Geisthunting Day_ even made it on their hammered-to-the-wall calendar. Wait. Wait, wait, wait. He had many more pressing questions, like their Geisthunting equipment and why they couldn't bring their weapons to fight—if found—Geist Grimm.

Look at them for Monty's sake! "And how exactly is a vacuum cleaner supposed to help?"

"You ask too many questions. Where's your sense of adventure?"

He glared and poked her with the end of his vacuum. "Hey, I have one of those, but I also think inside the box. And my leader instincts are telling me that ghosts aren't afraid of vacuum cleaners."

A lightbulb appeared over her head, and she suddenly stopped to smirk deviously at her weak-in-the-knees leader. "Aw! Shucks! Don't worry, Jaune, there's no reason to be scared, I'll always be your knight in shining armor, and you can stay the helpless damsel."

"... Gee, thanks, I feel _so _much better."

She laughed. "I knew you would. Now hush, you'll scare the ghost."

There was an oxymoron in there somewhere.

Another minute of walking down the never-ending stairwell finally had them reach the floor with darkness surrounding themselves in every imaginable corner. Jaune did not yelp when a background boiler boiled nor when he heard something scruffing across the semi-wet floor. Nope. He strategically made his presence known as he shuffled closer to Nora, holding his trusty vacuum for sweet, ignorant life.

He knew not to be afraid on one account.

The silliness of the adventure of Geisthunting kept him from freaking out entirely. Just another one of her holidays meant to break, chew, and spit him out, but the spooky basement wasn't any less terrifying. Why he went along with her games—_just say no_—beyond the need to prove pointless resilience escaped him. Oh? Right. Throwing in the towel basically granted Nora unlimited bragging rights. Nope, not going to happen. He switched his vacuum-weapon to extra vroom and followed with his shoulders held high and chin propped.

"Hey? You think we need a theme song?"

He grunted. "No."

She huffed. "Boo. You're no fun."

"That's me, Mr. No Fun."

Nora stopped and twirled around with which she inclined her head—more to accurately aim her headlamp—and pouted, hands crossed. She humphed and poked him squarely between the eyes, bonking him repeatedly before throwing her hands up.

"Well, we'll just have to fix that, and we can start with a theme song. Something catchy. A real rolls off the tongue kind of jam. Hmmm?"

He thinned his lips of the imagery of Nora rocking his guitar, power sliding in the room with her pajamas with a pair of sunglasses on. She understood his acoustic was non-electrical, but her Semblance ignored the laws of nature and supercharged it, turning her amps up to eleven with a watt-tastic grin. Funny, but before he laughed, the hairs on his neck rose. A thin sheet of sweat suddenly crawling up his skin. Huntsmen instincts yelled at him to peek over her shoulder with her eventually doing the same.

Wisps of chilly air passed their lips.

A single red eye gazed at them through the darkness, unblinking, blood bright, and as large as his fist. It slowly drew closer, growing massive with even Nora taking a step back. Their bare lights revealed more of the creature, showing black skin with freakishly long arms and a circular mask. No. Nope. Nu-uh. No!

Someone, anyone, please pinch him, he had to be dreaming.

A Geist Grimm—larger than they have even seen one—floated above Beacon's resident Geisthunters. Haunting ectoplasm oozed out from underneath its legless form. Jagged nails taunted them so. What must be its ribcage added to the whole ghost-persona thing? Either way, brushing past the fact that they did, in fact, find such a Grimm underneath Beacon, he sprung to action with his fight, flight, and fright instincts choosing the former of the choices.

"Taste vacuum!"

Braver words have never been said in the face of overwhelming odds.

Jaune Arc, Geisthunter, wearer of the Pumpkin Pete onesie, charged forward and flipped the switch of his weapon. The sound of the Super Suction Two-Thousand vroomed in the basement with both Nora and the Phantom Geist blinking from the way he stuffed the vacuum's nozzle against the Grimm's boney torso. Suction power pulled in some of its infinite ectoplasm until the poor thing sputtered and exploded all over Jaune in an explosion of lint and dust.

There stood Nora and a lint snowman.

The Geist stared emotionless at him for the briefest of seconds before snorting. That turned into a chuckled. That shifted into laughter. Then that became uncontrollable wheezing with its dangly arms holding its sides in hilarity. Jaune turned off his vacuum once it roared in belly bursting merriment, tomato red. Nora remained deathly quiet to the whole spectacle. Laughing Grimm? Uh? She twiddled her fingers and wished she brought Maghild now. None of this was supposed to happen. Not that she was scared of some chortling Grimm, immune to the thing called fear, but this Geist towered over both of them like some boogieman.

Both of them prepared themselves, fists forming, Aura activating, and vacuums turned around to be used as both shield and weapons, waiting for the Geist to quit its laughing to take them seriously, and when it controlled its breathing and absorbed their appearances, the laughter came back in strides with it rolling in the air. A cape-wearing Nora and bunny-logo Jaune was too much to bear.

Then the Phantom Geist abruptly heaved over and collapsed on the floor.

Unmoving.

Dangling arms dropped to the floor with its ectoplasm no longer oozing ominously from its decomposed skin. Both of them waited for a full minute with Nora taking the first step closer. Jaune followed. Back-and-forth, back-and-forth. Ultimately, they stood over its downed body, dipping their heads.

She almost kicked the Grimm. "What happened?"

He opened his mouth a few times before finding the right words. "I think... I think it laughed itself to death."

"Try poking it with a stick."

"_You _try poking it with a stick."

No poking necessary.

Confirmation of the Grimm's demise came when ash gradually began floating away from its body. No stick poking needed. An odd weight fell from their shoulders with the basement growing considerably brighter. Coldness drained away. Jaune, for all his well of infinite knowledge wisdom, flipped the switch of his vacuum and pulled in the ashy remains in dense silence. Not a peep, nor a mumble or sigh, he merely used his machine to clean house. Quiet, he turned when he noticed the light from her Scroll as she recorded some off-beat jingle.

"What are you doing?"

"Making our theme song. Duh. So shush, momma's working." Nora hummed quietly. "Who are you gonna call... Geisthunters!"

Right. Theme song. No stopping that. So he ignored her to finish cleaning up the ashy remains of the Geist, disturbed by the fact that this Grimm died because it mocked him outright. What a pyrrhic victory. Pride gone. Confidence shattered. He shut off the machine and headed for the stairway. Nora quickly latched to his shadow, typing furiously on her Scroll with her tongue hanging out. Jaune rejoiced in the win all the same, woo-hoo, extra-hoo, but it tasted more bitter than his vacuum stuffed with Geist ashes. Somehow Nora's holiday managed to shake up his self-esteem, and he felt cold in his durably soft onesie. Explosions and randomness he could handle, but not being a laughing stock.

Maybe it was time to call it quits on this whole _two-can play this game_ shtick before his confidence took another beating.

Now that the darkness vanished from the basement—mostly—somehow the trek back upstairs took little time. Probably helped that Jaune's steps weren't half-stepped, guarded due to a weak headlight. Nora practically skipped back up. She sounded her theme song in the background, throwing a funky chorus into the beat while he slouched. Once they escaped that boiler room, they stood in the maintenance room with a stretching smile, partly due to her finishing the final few notes. Jaune, out-of-character, broke the silence first.

"That was something else."

"Yup." Nora agreed before hiding her Scroll and crushing him in a loving embrace. "My hero."

Hero? Him? Not a chance. He tried to pry her away but to little avail. Nora slothed tight, squeezing his torso with her chin pressed against his chest. Lightning danced in those peculiar pupils of hers, and he lacked the strength to deny her. The Grimm's earlier defeat flashed back to him, and he stiffened in her hold.

"Hero? Me?" Jaune shook his head. "Sorry to burst your bubble, Nora, but I'm no hero."

She shook her head. "Nope, you're wrong. You beat that Grimm—!"

"Yeah, because it was laughing at me—!"

She slapped his torso. "Doesn't matter! Dead is dead, and that Grimm's toast. All because of you, Mr. Hero."

"What happened to Mr. No Fun?"

She giggled. "You're still that, too. Both. Not all heroes are fun."

No point in arguing that. Most comic heroes weren't the epitome of fun. Many lacked that quality, but none of this was a comic. Villains didn't laugh themselves silly before punching their own ticket. Unless if they were mocking him. Like that over-sized Geist.

Speaking of mocking. "What happened to me being your damsel?" Jaune frowned and threw his arms out. "And what kind of hero wears a onesie?"

She giggled into his chest. "Mine."

To Nora Valkyrie, that was all that mattered.

To Jaune Arc, he never blushed so fondly to such kind words.

Not all heroes wore capes.

Some wore Pumpkin Pete pajamas.

"Nora? I—!"

"Stop being a Bummer Blake and hug me back!" Nora fussed while craving affection. "I got all day, Fearless Leader. And I'm not moving from this spot until you do."

He froze with whatever argument dying on his tongue, just like how that Geist perished. So forward. Part of him feared she might go through with her declaration and keep them trapped here until one of them dropped from exhaustion. Her energizer battery worked against him. _Thump. Thump. Thump._ An Arc's heart raced. It beat loudly. Nora unquestionably felt it through his warm fabric, teasing him with a stretching grin.

Jaune didn't know how to react.

Killing that Grimm from sheer dumb luck hurt, but her pinning body eased some of the pain and tension. Burden fell from rigid shoulders. Confidence-restored arms wrapped around her head and pulled her impossibly close. Static sparked between them, likely from the friction of their pajamas rubbing together, but he didn't mind the jolt.

Made him feel alive.

"Much better." Nora laughed. She stood on her toes. "See? That wasn't so hard, worrywart."

He rolled his eyes amusingly. "I still don't think I did anything hero worthy."

She slapped his chest a second time. "What? Are you kidding me? You beat that Grimm with only a vacuum. Vac-u-um! I couldn't do that. Not in a million years." Nora paused, hiding her voice. "I was actually... scared we might lose."

He blinked and leaned back, still trapped in her embrace. An eyebrow raised along with his voice. "You? But you're never scared. You're the bravest person I know. Ruby did tell me of the time you riding a Grimm."

She hummed and rested her elbows on his chest, using him to hold her body up. "That was easy with Magnhild. Who's scared with a giant hammer for their weapon? Not me."

"But without it?"

She looked away. "Ha. Yeah. Different story."

For the first time since knowing her, Jaune saw vulnerability in her armor. Cracks formed with chinks showing. She exposed herself to him, revealing more than just a brave fighter, but human emotions so rare to find in one so optimistically adept. Sadness, fear, and comfort, he never considered her for one owning such sensations, but everything made sense with her body wrapped tightly around his torso, absorbing heat through his cushiony bound fabric and closeness from his rapidly beating heart.

He affectionately smiled and pulled her head in for a second embrace, pouring his entire core into it. She relaxed in a way that made him realize how stressed her body had been, sighing with her shoulders slacking and body numbing, carelessness on his part. Just because he thought of her invincible, didn't mean she was immune to cuddling. Everyone needed a hug every once in a while, even Nora. As the Fearless Leader of Team JNPR, he planned to fix that, and he knew just where to start.

"So?" Jaune trailed. "Theme song? Tell me more about it."

Nora sprung her back with her eyes shining with tiny stars. Her mouth opened wide but came to a screeching halt. Two voices screamed through Beacon Academy's dormitory, louder than the thunderstorm outside.

"Hey! Who! Took! My! Cape?!"

"I know someone didn't touch my gauntlets!"

"After we sneak back into our room." Jaune quickly finished.

"Good idea."

…

Good times and toe-curling embraces aside, Nora planned to win.

_Geisthunting Day_ had been a setback.

A hiccup.

She cut her losses, accepted her leader's _Nora Does Jaune Arc's Laundry Day_ in stride, and planned her revenge while throwing in his orange undershirt into the load. Fabric softener was the enemy. That and stinky socks, but she humphed and reflected while sitting on top of the vibrating washer. With Sunday tomorrow, she had ample time to think of a holiday to knock his smelly socks off.

A tap of her chin, a kick with her foot, and she wiggled her butt on the washer without any ideas. Huffing, she bounced off and threw her clothes into the mix, not separating colors and slammed the hatch shut. Nora quickly sniffed the clothes she wore, grimacing from the taste of sweat after a long workout, and session with his dirty laundry. Eww! Smelly. She peeled off her skirt and shirt, not even a moment of hesitation, standing there barefooted in only her underwear. Realization soon sank in. Uh-oh. Her lips pursed with her arms crossed hotly underneath her chest.

"What to wear? What to wear?"

Personally, showing skin never bothered her much, but Beacon had rules with regulations and having no home to call her own deviated some of her standards of modesty or less face expulsion. Waiting here until the laundry finished sounded oh-so-boring without company. What to wear? She glanced around and found a single article of clothing, abandoned near the basket, not yet shoved into the rinse-wash cycle. Must have slipped her hands when she had been carelessly tossing them into the machine.

An easy fix.

She picked up the clothing and paused. Oh? She forgot to add his hoodie into the load. Silly her, Nora moved toward the washer but never moved forward with her plan as her fingers played with worn threading. Memories of wearing this hoodie made her smile. Not all holidays required gut-wrenching trauma. Some were supposed to be entertaining. Exciting!

Fun.

Some inkling of her forgot about the point of her whimsical festivals. To throw caution to the wind and explore the world of what-if. Holidays were supposed to be a time of celebration, not pointless revenge. Well, that might be stretching the word thin, but point made. She made her own rules. No ifs ands or buts about it! So who cared that it was _Nora Does Jaune Arc's Laundry Day_, messing with clothes was an occupational hazard. Honestly, Jaune-Jaune should have known better than to leave her alone with his unmentionables. Foolish leader, a jokester at heart. Smelly socks demanded special attention, but that made her consider his hoodie with an intricate look.

How did his hoodie smell?

Nora Valkyrie acted.

A quick peek around the laundry room—empty—and she pressed the fabric to her nose, clutching the linen possessively the deeper she inhaled. Mmmmm! Nora grinned against the cloth. Smelled just like him with an added musky scent from training, and she decided right then and there to wear the hoodie. Her Fearless Leader wouldn't mind if she borrowed his clothing for an emergency. Rustle. Rustle. She slipped the hoodie on and popped her head out, baring the sweetest of smiles in an outfit two sizes too big for her. Comfy. Warm. She raised her arms and shoved her tongue out in concentration.

Ah-ha! Gotcha! Not this time, useless sleeves! No flapping today. She dramatically rolled them up and squirmed in place from not having to worry about worthless pants falling, too. Good thing her leader was tall, allowing for the hoodie to brush past her backside and rest snugly below her waist. Perfect! Maybe a bit breezy between the normal knees, but wiggling her toes was its own reward.

Snug like two bugs in a rug.

She hopped on the dryer and shivered from the cold metal brushing against her legs. Brrr! Goosebumps traveled up her skin. She swiftly pulled more of his hoodie over her upper thighs and fished out her Scroll. On the bright side, Laundry Day required little effort, quick and easy. Small victories. Just gave her more planning for Monday's riveting day. Filling the calendar required more brainpower and thought-planning, so some of the days were left intentionally blank for just such an occasion. Hehe! Her Fearless Leader wasn't the only strategist of the team. Thinking inside the box was child's play for an introvert of mayhem and destruction.

An hour passed before she knew it.

_Beep!_

Nora instantly jumped off the washer and checked the dryer, grinning from hot freshness tickling her forearms. One, two, three, and plopped went the clothes into the basket, plenty of room for her and Jaune-Jaune's—wait a syrup-coated minute. One beep? What happened to number two? Her feet blitzed over to the second dryer, panicking once she checked their clothes and found them soapy wet.

Oops! She forgot to start their washing-and-drying machine. Nora checked to see if, by some Monty Miracle, she had missed the second beep, with the off-chance that only some of their clothes were drenched, but found their clothes still soaked to the stitching. Sigh! No other option, she hip-shoved the handle closed and started the dreaded machine. Excellent, just fan-tas-tic, another hour of her day gone—Nora feverishly shook her head. Humph! No way! She wasn't going to spend another minute trapped in the laundry room.

Might as well savage the moment and spend the next hour in the comfort of her dorm room. Better than mindlessly flipping through her Scroll for the next bout of inspiration to hit her. Without analyzing too much about it, Nora loaded the basket with Ren and Pyrrha's clothing and waltzed back to her room. Beacon's tile floors brushed against her bare feet, and she quickly sprinted in the hallways to avoid the chilly cold.

Foot first, she barged into the room, slamming the door open with enough force to shake the hallway. No patience meant knocking, but who had time for that dribble-drabble nonsense? She bounced inside with a basket bin attached to her hip, clothes haphazardly tossed inside without any care to folding, or preventing wrinkles. From the corner, Jaune, who was the only one present in the room, noticed all of the clothing inside belonged to Ren and Pyrrha and barely reacted to her semi-surprising entrance.

None of theirs.

"Hey." Jaune aimlessly waved, giving her a quick look before moving his Scroll down entirely. "Nora... is that my hoodie?"

She dumped the load on Ren's bed—her partner knew how to fold a mean shirt—and slugged onto her own. "Yup. I'm borrowing it until our laundry's done, hope you don't mind."

Not that it mattered.

Nora thought nothing of his wide-eyed stare, planting her back against the wall with her headphones blasting music. He had questions, like why wasn't their laundry done with their partners, but he had trouble focusing his train of thought. Curious eyes were unable to look away from Nora's figure. He silently yelped and covered his eyes with his Scroll, peeking once or twice or many times from the transparent edge. Fingers dug into his device, almost threatening to break the screen from the force applied.

His heart skipped a beat.

The first time she wore his hoodie hardly mattered to him, not worth fretting over, but things flipped this time. Last time that hoodie came with an undershirt and pants to cover her skin, no exposed skin or wrinkled threading. Rolled up sleeves betrayed him. His six-foot-one height worked against him with bits of her collarbone exposed in creamy, soft skin. A pink bra strap clung to her shoulder, and he desperately fought his instincts to not look down at thick, supple legs that stretched devilishly far.

Softness, he had never once attributed his bubbly, overly-destructive teammate as soft. Words like hardcore and explosions fitted more into Nora's character check-list, but the way she shook her head, listening to her cheerful tune with a hoodie that breathed in all the right places, simpering in pure delight, turned the pigments in his skin transparent pink. Somehow, in a hoodie larger than her tiny frame, it looked far better on her than him, and Jaune tried his darn hardest not to peek.

A fruitless tactic on his part, one he failed to notice as Nora smirked against the beat of her melody.

She caught him staring more than once. His subtly was as tactless as a Grimm in a Huntsmen ball. Still, she devoured the attention. Felt good that someone noticed her more feminine charms, even when she acted upon them by complete accident. Oum knew people considered her rough-and-tough, and while that held valuable merit, especially in the heat of the battle, she appreciated the attention all the same. Shy glances, troubled stares, wayward looks, whatever trivial analogy others used, it didn't matter. Nora greedily consumed the rare treat.

A real confidence booster.

Now, onto the more pressing matters.

To tease him or not to tease him, that was the question. Hn? A golden opportunity presented itself. She pursed her lips into a sly smirk. A little attention never hurt anyone, and that _look but don't touch _rule deserved fair turnabout. Before, all the glomps and touches were involuntary, but he chose to stare at her. He could be acting like a gentleman, but nope, nope, Jaune-Jaune stole peeks.

Nora Valkyrie was going to milk that dry.

So she decided to pose in the most tactfully indecent of ways and reward him.

Starting small, Nora propped her chin on the squishy pillow, laying her stomach flat on the bed with her legs swinging back-and-forth in the air. Button-mashing filled the tense void in the room with her humming her patent-pending Geisthunter theme song. Bits of his hoodie curled up against the rump of her posterior, tantalized with pink underwear. She felt his eyes following the smoothness of her skin, moving from her thighs to her mounds. Teasing never felt so exhilarating. Ren never responded to her advancements, but her leader's lips dried. She openly relished in the attention, inhaling another scent of his hoodie.

Laundry day wasn't a total bust.

Ha! She remained fixated in the pose while her feet swayed in the air, playfully wiggling her toes. Seconds turned into minutes, and once she noticed his attention lacking, she changed the tempo.

Overtime!

Upping the lewd, she rolled onto her back and pressed her legs up over the headboard, using a pillow to rest her vertebrae and tilt her body in a deeper angle while wiggling to get comfortable. The desired effect worked. Folds of the hoodie unfolded. Only the tiniest fraction fell, but just enough to expose the edge of her smooth stomach and rest of her _mmmm _legs. She smiled when she heard his breath hitched. So easy. More? Yeah! More. Much more! Nora purposely groaned, huffing out in mild, fake distress to no particular part in her game, and moved again.

Final move.

Nora grumbled. She quickly got bored with her position, never removing her eyes from her black-screened Scroll and rested again on her stomach, backside shifted up with her body bending downward, making sure the unfolded hoodie remained as such. Smirk! No stitching was left to cover her pink, skin-hugging, underwear-laced rump. Not a thread. Only skin and panties remained. Hehe! A quick peek over the edge of her screen revealed his sights fixated on her juicy mounds.

Thanks to her easy-going, ecstatic personality, she played to her strengths and fidgeted while acting like herself. Nora Valkyrie refused to stay still, a ticking time bomb of movement. Stomach to pillows, elbows to comforter, she rested her belly down with her bottom side pushed upward from the incline of fluff. More threading fell, and she felt his eyes on her bouncy, ample shape with the curve of her spine showing. More skin, less hoodie. Having fun, Nora stretched her arms out, acting as her game was on some major high stakes with her tongue stuck out, bending her spine and accentuating her butt. More to see, less for the imagination.

So innocent and so naughty.

Wiggle. Shake. Wiggle wiggle, shake shake. Restless hips were the enemy for her leader. Far better than any Grimm. While she knew no one bested Blake Belladonna in the booty department, she appreciated her rump. Round. Plump. Great for sitting on. Her hips worked their endless magic. Short stature, heavy stacked, she thanked Oum for her blessed serving size and taunted a hungry, ill-starved man.

Snicker!

Nora had to be extra-extra careful. Eyes on both her bottom and spine. The attention was borderline addicting. Nerve wracking, too. Touching him was one thing, hugs galore, but posing for her leader in nothing but her skimpy unmentionables and a not-all-size-fits-all hoodie, was an entirely different game. Some part of her hoped he recorded any session of it, but kinks aside, she smirked. Enough was enough. Better anchor him back to reality with some mild teasing. Something-something to restart that overheating brain of his.

"You know what? I'm keeping this hoodie."

His eyes snapped up, all perversion gone. "Over my dead body."

"It's so warm and soft." Nora ignored him. "Perfect for a growing Nora."

He gaped like a fish, unable to comprehend the absurdity of it all. "No."

"Yup!"

Silly Jaune still shook his head, sputtering nonsense. Yap, yap, yap! Humph! She had half a mind to make her next holiday—oh, yes! Grin! That would work flawlessly, unless if he wanted to forfeit. Then that worked, too. Either she won or won. Winners or losers with Jaune being the latter and her coming out on top. Just then, before he voiced more pointless outrage, in walked Ren with a basket of freshly dried clothes in his arms. His sights swiftly shifted over to her with a mute vengeance.

Nora Valkyrie waved.

"Heya, Ren!"

Ren said nothing, looked beyond her state of undress, and stood before her with their basket of laundry pressed upon his hip. Lips curved. Nora hummed in place, simpering in naiveté. A count from zero to ten triggered in his thoughts, but he stopped at four and rewarded her impatience. Without uttering a word, a syllable, or even a sound, Ren, in one fell swoosh, dropped the lemony scented load over her head and buried her in an avalanche of non-smelly socks and garments.

Nora immediately popped out of the mountain of clean clothes like an orange rabbit, creating a mess and smelling that of cotton freshness. Fabric clung to her skin like static electricity with a sock on her cheek. Ren feigned detachment and crossed his arms.

"What have I said about living your laundry unattended? What if someone stole it?"

She sat up. "That's never going to happen because I know you always double-check. Besides, who would want Jaune's clothes?"

"Hey!"

Ren's eyes narrowed by a splitting hair before he locked the basket around her head like a cage. "You're folding them."

"Okie-dokie!"

Her partner escaped to the bathroom, probably to wash his hair. Nora rolled off the bed to get to work, crashing onto the floor before sliding up in a good mood. All previous memories gone. First, she tore the sock from her cheek and dropped it into the basket, doing the same for all of them before folding her skirts and separating Jaune's. Laundry Day never said she had to fold his clothes. Tough noodles! Another shirt, an extra fold. She threw his stuff onto the side, playing that melody between folding her delicates. Her tantalizing hips swayed to the beat, only this time out of instinct, not temptation.

"Who are you gonna call—whoops!"

Oopsie-Blakey! She turned around to grab the dropped shirt and gasped when she found her leader standing directly in front of her, chests almost touching. So quiet. So fearless. Her heart thumped when he leaned over her, using his six-foot-one unfairness to his advantage.

"You're not keeping my hoodie."

Cute.

She pinched his cheeks before _booping _his nose with one of her socks. Diminutive static shocked him, earning a flinch that she added to her growing amusement. Zap! Zap! Twiddling fingers mocked him, only for him to hold his ground. She respected his resolve, defied and ridiculed it, but admired the sheer willpower of it all.

Fun.

"Okay." Nora dawdled, stretching the word. She reached down and pulled the hoodie almost entirely off. "Here you go—!"

"Stop! Stop! Keep it on!" Jaune begged.

Her innocence was betrayed by her stretching lips. "Sending mixed signals here, _Fearless Leader._"

She figured victory belonged to her once he moved over and separated her clothes from his, but something brewed in that strategist hungry mind of his, that Nora never doubted. Until then, she plucked her pajama shorts from the pile and slid them on.

Minutes later, number four of Team JNPR returned after a long training session.

Pyrrha paused at the door frame, tilting her head from the heated tension that came from laundry folding. Jaune fidgeted between stretching his shirts. Nora danced to her aired out skirts. Ren smoothed out the wrinkles and creases out of his tailcoats. Everything appeared fine, but she sensed the atmosphere the second she opened the door.

Missing clothing, too much detergent, not enough fabric softener, mixing colors with whites, Pyrrha hadn't a clue, and wisely decided not to air out any dirty laundry and folded her pile as Nora hummed a tune alongside it all, but first.

"Nora? Are you wearing Jaune's hoodie?"

"Jaune-Jaune gave it to me."

"I did not!"

"I'm missing a sock."

Team JNPR's dynamic in a nutshell.

**...**

Lie Ren knew his Sunday morning was an oddity once he woke up and discovered his partner—awake before him no less—repeatedly writing and erasing on her color-coded calendar at their team's desk.

Wearing a pair of mismatched socks.

Clothes changed, lips thinned, interest piqued, he silently peeked over her hunched form, raising an eyebrow by a hair's length as her Monday box's border dwindled between each excessive rub. The second one rose upon absorbing the scene. Cackling? A stretching grin? A mild dose of insanity? Dust, it was Leif Erikson Day all over again. Everything before him embodied what made her Nora Valkyrie.

Vagary at its core.

"Dare I ask?"

"It's a secret."

That was never a good sign.

He kept his mouth shut and watched her scribble. Name after name, attempt after attempt, she persisted on, trying to convey the right words. Schemes. Plots. Depravity and so much more, Nora controlled all that in a two-inch by two-inch square. Some of the holidays were lost to him, like _Gimmie Gimmie Day_, so he searched her belongings to uncover this so-called secret. A few pencils. Some sticky notes. One crudely drawn picture of her with a rabbit around her chest. Nothing remarkably unusual for her, but then he spotted a paper with a semi-mathematical equation scrawled in bold lettering.

Fearless Leader's hoodie plus Nora Valkyrie equaled hers.

Ah.

Fingers lifted the sheat. An unbreakable theorem supported by the fundamentals laws of chaos. Lie Ren knew better than to argue such a proof and calmly lowered the paper. Secret learned, he carefully considered his options. Either he stopped Nora, a futile gesture, ignored the inevitable, or appeased her needs without causing unneeded mayhem, ergo, for example, whatever _Kleptomania Day_ entailed. Hypothetically speaking, warning his leader could be option four, but too much work.

Option three shined.

Ren stole the pencil away from her hand without missing a beat and smoothly erased her latest name change, adding a small correction near her formula for future reference. For her sake, not his. He neatly wrote the exact words she failed to convey. Something classy with Nora's vibe so his leader wouldn't pick up on the discrepancy. A tap of the pencil, with a hearted-I, and he finished. She read over the name once, twice, three times before her pupils sparked alongside her gigawatt grin.

"Ren! That's perfect! Jaune-Jaune will never know what hit him."

Jaune-Jaune?

Right.

She woke up early to play this game of theirs and plan out cunning strategies. Ren's lips almost curved upward at the thought. Unbeknownst to her or his leader, Jaune-Jaune's influence over her was a positive one. Good. Improving, Ren approved. He knew he failed in that regard. Healthy foods and strict hygiene aside, his effects were minuscule. That simper, her giddiness, those bundles of nerves ready to burst at a given moment's notice, all of it, every single bite-sized bit, Jaune played a role in creating that. He challenged her charades and brought some of his own, and she accepted the challenge with both arms wide open.

Nora Valkyrie was happy.

Be a heinous crime not to help her one-up their leader. Keep the ball rolling as others said. Still, some leftover guilt clawed at his soul for failing to indulge her whimsical and frankly exhausting needs. Shifting that responsibility over to Jaune felt unfair to both of them, and he refused to grin until he knew if there were zero regrets.

"So..." Ren trailed. Small talk was never his thing. "You're having fun?"

She laughed, spinning on her chair. "Of course, I am! I'm having a blast. Things couldn't be better!"

Now those lips curved. "As long as your happy. You deserve it."

Her smile warmed. "Aww! You're such a big softie today. What's the occasion? It's not my birthday." Nora paused. "Is it? Ren?!"

"No, Nora, that's not today. You're simply glowing."

She snickered behind her palm. "Glowing? Me? Stop being such a dork. Your eyes need checking."

Maybe they did, but he resisted giving her the satisfaction. "I'm not the one who misspelled the phrase, No Cuts, No Buts, No Coconuts."

She stood up and squished her finger against his chest, poking between each word. "Hey, mister! How was I supposed to know it's but not butt? That's very confusing."

He captured her finger and held it firm. Borderless eyes peered down into hers. "I recommend reading it first. Butts should've given it away."

She squinted her eyes and stuck her tongue out in an _I'm right, you're wrong, case closed_ expression before pulled her hand free. Arms crossing, Nora effortlessly fell back into her chair and spun with her body leaned back. One spin kept her tongue stuck out, but the following returned with her smirk mischievous in what might be an afterthought of his or her newest holiday. Another rotation had her glowing again, followed with a laughing roguish fourth.

Ren chuckled under his breath at the display.

Emotions sewed onto her sleeves? Not close. Not even remotely. She radiated positivity. Stars looked up to her radiance. The sun responded to her shine. Electricity was her ally, lightning her friend. Madness defined her outside appearance to the distant observer, a common misconception, but if someone asked him, inquired about his opinion, he believed her the personification of sophrosyne.

People bled, backstabbed, gave everything away to unearth their true selves. Nora knew who she was, what she wanted, how she desired to live since the first day he met her. Never before had she doubted herself. He envied and praised her for that. As long as she remained as such, never losing her way, giving back one-hundred percent, then his world kept spinning on its axis.

Her happiness was more than enough to pacify him.

Hn?

Happiness? Something appeared amiss. The source of her pleasure was missing. Early morning, but no signs of their remaining teammates? Deserved investigation. "What do you think Jaune and Pyrrha are up to right now?"

"Probably being banana slugs."

Banana slugs on a Sunday? Ren dared not to ask. At least, not that question. More pressing matters required his attention.

"By the way, you're wearing my missing sock."

"... No I'm not. You really need to get your eyes checked."

In a training arena, early in the morning with not a soul in sight, a champion stood over a fallen knight with her foot planted on his chest plate and blade pointed to his neck, devilishly out-of-character with her teasing grin.

She twirled her weapon around his jaw. "You've been slacking on your training, skipping practice. Don't think I haven't noticed."

Jaune huffed against her steel-like weapon. "Cut a guy some slack."

Pyrrha contemplated it all for but four seconds. "Hm? Nope. Now, get up. Time to focus on your stances."

"... Slave driver."

"No cuts, no buts, no coconuts."

**...**

Jaune Arc learned the hard way that Monday was _No Take Backsies Day!_

Courtesy of one Lie Ren.

**...**

Nora never allowed her bitter emotions to get the better of her.

A Nora Valkyrie policy guarantee.

Rarely she steamed, but when she raged, she fumed. Her ears adopted a healthy shade of red with her face turning oh-so honeysuckle pink. Eyes looked vicious—narrowed—pupils in the shape of lightning bolts. Cheeks got undoubtedly pouted, and her body language screamed bone-breaking promises. Fisted fingers, stomping steps, humphing humphs, grouchy growling—yikes! Stay away! Incoming thunderstorm!

A dark and ominous storm cloud hung over her head this bright, sunny morning.

Not even wearing his comfortable and warm hoodie defrosted the chill spilling down her spine.

Few things set her off. Stolen food, hurting the innocent, laughing at huggable critters, and the taunting of her friends, but she despised above else loneliness. Solitude hurt. Orphans loathed isolation. So when she learned the harsh truth that _Scavenger Hunt Day_ was nothing more than a ruse to keep her preoccupied while her partner-in-holiday-crime asked out Weiss Schnee to yet another date, thanks to her ever informant Penny, nothing but darkness shadowed her eyes.

Things grew complicated.

Jealousy? Not per se, more betrayal-like.

Mutiny.

Her path of destruction didn't take long. She found the two timer and her in the hallway, chatting with Weiss' arms crossed. Instinct drove her to the corner, ready to yell once he grinned, only for his head to drop. She only caught so much of the conversation, but Nora heard the gist of it. Grrr Jaune had asked Weiss yet to another breakfast outing, brunch before lunch. Of course, she said _no_. She rolled her eyes. What did her clueless leader expect after countless rejections? Hopeless optimism was fine-and-dandy for a while, but that eventually turned into pity. Some of her earlier anger dissipated once she watched him wave weakly to the retreating Weiss.

How could she maintain any hostility after watching the way his shoulders dropped with his arms limping to his sides? Gone went his excitement. Gone went her temper. Gone went everything. He sagged against the wall, discarding all pretense of hopeless optimism. She remained hidden behind the corner, tightly gripping the drywall with her lips wobbling. That ominous dark cloud started raining.

Nora understood heart-throbbing pain.

Unrequited love hurt.

To be ignored so easily. To be overlooked. To be denied so emotionlessly. A feeling all too familiar.

Maybe they could cancel today's holiday?

She frowned. Uh-nuh. No way! No siree. Today wouldn't end on a low note. Her lips thinned in certainty, and she headed for their team's room. Nora hated herself for tiptoeing. She didn't sneak around, she marched and confronted the problem head-on.

Coward.

No. No! She shook her head and picked up the pace. Not a coward. Never one of those. A doer, uh-huh, she was one of those. She did. She acted. She moved. Like now, barging into their room and snatching the calendar from the wall without skipping a step. No plan, no goal, only instinct.

Today was Jaune-Jaune's holiday, meaning it must be fun.

Fun distracted the dark clouds raging in their thoughts.

She grabbed their calendar, their holy grail, and pulled a cap off a random marker with the edge of her teeth. Scratch! Goodbye, Scavenger—blah! Hello, new and improved holiday. Nora double-checked her spelling before racing off to collide with Jaune, never once second-guessing her decision. She zip-zapped through the hallways, finding him messing with his Scroll. Impeccable timing! Her feet zoomed over to him with her instantly covering his Scroll's screen with the calendar. His flinch made her enthusiasm grow.

"Hello!" Nora announced. "Lookie here, Jaune, we forgot to celebrate your holiday. Silly us."

"... What are you talking about, Nora? Today's _Scavenger Hunt Day_."

"Uh-uh. See?" Nora flashed the calendar in his face and pointed at the square that had the holiday crossed out in sharpie and replaced with _Morning Date with Nora_. "You owe me a good time, Mr. Arc. And momma's all about the fun. So hurry up and change."

He acted dumbstruck, a real fool. "Nora—?"

She pressed a finger to his lips. "Up, up, up. Too late. You're not weaseling yourself out of this, Jaune. You owe me. So I expect you downstairs in ten minutes and not a second later. Capiche? Good."

She slipped away before he had any chance to argue, humming in a job well done. He only blinked at her retreating form, occasionally shooting a glare at the newly inked holiday with the gears in his head coming to a screeching halt. Tick-tock-tick. Turning a corner, she smirked when he fumbled to regain his footing and turned around to speed walk to their dorm room. Her body moved and off she went, impatiently waiting near the fountain, leaning on the cement. No nervous butterflies or ticks, Nora knew it was a mock date, a dumb-dumb one. Something-something to erase Jaune's sadness and her lingering resentment. Besides, who knew? Good times might be happening.

Nora Valkyrie would not be denied.

Things started looking better when he returned a minute late, still dressed in his casual wardrobe, except he wore a silly tie. Knowing him, he probably paced around the room in a myriad of circles, trying to decode her unbreakable motive, and forgot to change until the very last minute. Panicky, panicky, she laughed at the thought of a flustered Jaune. Her grinny grin brightened when he motioned his arms out toward the Bullhead platform.

"Uh, after you?"

Laughing, she rolled her eyes and tugged his wrist. No need for gentleman showmanship. Not with her. Nora already considered herself eternally lucky. Having someone partake in her joyous holidays sent her over the broken moon. Pyrrha acted a little too _stick in the mud_ for her tastes. Ren only humored her for so long before cutting her activities short. Not Jaune-Jaune. He went the whole nine-yards, enjoying the festive to their fullest, no matter how silly. He knew how to have fun. No. No, no. Jaune _was _fun. There was a difference.

"Lose the tie."

He coughed. "What? But it makes me look like—!"

"A dork." Nora reconsidered her words. "I mean a bigger dork... dork."

"This coming from the girl wearing a hoodie much too big for her." Jaune frowned. "A hoodie that belongs to me, I might add."

She grabbed his useless tie. "Not anymore! Now hold still." Nora ripped off the item and fitted the orange monstrosity around her neck. "There! All better."

He appalled at the act. "What do you mean _all better_? That matched my shirt."

"And it matches my hair. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find matching clothes with this mane?" Nora stretched her lips. "Besides, it looks way better on me than you. Tough luck, Fearless Leader."

He grumbled off an interchanging amount of unintelligible words, stumbling all over his rolling tongue. Arms crossed after his fifth excuse faltered against _la la la I can't hear you_ ears. She offered him a chance to apologize by awarding him the opportunity to fix her tie in place. When he protested again, needing a better vocabulary, he stopped her and accurately aligned the band. Nora snicked, knowing she looked better with a hoodie, tie, and combat skirt rolled into one.

Apology accepted.

They reached the landing station and waited for the Bullhead, but she refused to wait-and-see. "So? Where are we going?"

He remained strong-willed. "It's a surprise."

"A surprise?"

"A surprise-surprise."

A pout. "You're no fun."

A grin. "I'm Mr. No Fun, remember?"

She humphed and shot her tongue out. Blah! Sir Bullhead finally arrived after a grueling five minutes, and she pulled him inside before the bay doors fully opened. Off they went to Vale with Jaune-Jaune going slightly pale, either by the motion sickness or his realization of the potential of a date. Hard to tell. True to her personality, Nora fussed in her seat with her face pressed against the window. A day out in Vale? Free food? More chances to torment her leader? Yup! This beat _Scavenger Hunt Day_ by a mile.

Sincerer to his word, he committed to the persona and refused to spill any hints on the way there, hiding behind mock expressions and half-lidded smiles. The way the sun beat against his face, shiny and warm, occasionally distracted her, but she fidgeted, poked, and prodded in failure. Jaune resisted with his fortress of immunity, but he swiftly moved once they landed, only to head near the closest trashcan and upchuck. A gentle tap on his back, followed by soothing circles, eased his tension, and he laughed inside the rubble.

"Making room for breakfast."

She chuckled. "You're so dumb."

"You're dumb."

Comeback of the century.

Dumb-dumb recovered quickly enough, eyes burning with renewed determination. Suddenly he departed, using his long legs to cover a great distance with her struggling to keep up.

"Hey, hey!" Nora yelled. "Slow down! Where's the fire?"

"I forgot I have reservations. We better hurry up, or we'll miss it."

Her feet stopped.

Reservations?

For breakfast?

Part of her wanted to ask why the overkill, but her stomach gurgled at the idea of handcrafted delectable delights. Bothersome questions, who needed them? Nora never ate at some fancy-schmancy place before. She eagerly followed him, matching his brisk pace while enjoying the sudden one-eighty of his personality shift. Comfortable hoodie was comfortable, protecting her from the chilly morning air.

Their walk ended soon enough with her standing in front of the most bizarre building.

Nora _uhhhed _at the display. A tiny, cozy restaurant greeted them, rooftop two giant waffles with the doors resembling forks and pillars dripping syrup. Mismatched in orange and yellow coloring, not quite what she had been expecting. To think this place required a reservation? Whelp! Never judge a book by its syrup-stained cover. Lesson learned. Oh! Above the syrup, written in drawn butter, the name screamed out to her.

She read the sign out loud. "Waffle-Waffle-Waffle House, home to the squarest waffles this corner of Vale? So this was where you were planning on taking Weiss? Fancy." Nora stretched the word, adding a high-rich accent. "But I'm not much of a waffle eater."

"Give it a shot. You might like it."

Famous last words.

Nora reluctantly followed her waffle-loving leader. The door jingled opened, squeaking with the bell ringing above their heads. An assortment of smells bombarded her nose, and she tugged nervously on the sleeve of her hoodie, finding it gallantly seethed inside.

"Welcome to Waffle-Waffle-Waffle. Do you have a reservation?"

Huh?

She cocked her head at the old-style granny standing behind the podium. Short, shorter than her. Fraile based on the way she wobbled while standing, able to keep her balance with a cane nearby. She had one of those time-worn simpers, wrinkly with her hair snowy white with a million and one tales to tell. Warmth breathed from her presence that made her smile automatically.

"Hi!" Jaune grinned nervously. "Table for two, Jaune Arc."

Granny smiled. "Just in time, sunny. Right, this way."

She hopped off a wooden step and ushered them to follow her, moving painstakingly slow. Not long after, she sat them down and handed them a pair of homemade menus before rushing off to grab them beverages. Nora sat stiffly in her comfy chair, glancing around the old décor to grandfather tickers and the cuckoo clock a minute past ten. Other patrons, much older, chit chatted with laughter and good feeling all around.

She trailed. "So... this place and reservations, huh?"

"It's a mom and pop's restaurant. They're famous for their waffles, hence the need for reservations." Jaune pointed at her menu. "Trust me! The food's really good."

Her stomach growled with her picking up the menu. "I'll be the judge of that."

Grumble, grumble. Nora hid her face behind the menu, scanning the list furiously while her dumb leader snickered in the background. Grumble, grumble, grumble. Waffles? Two stacks? Four stacks? Five?! Her portion size to stomach ratio was unmatched when it came to pancakes, but none of this made a lick of sense to her. Pictures helped. Uh-huh! Square-y squares topped with a mountain of syrup. Golden yellow, sizzled, added with a side of hashbrowns. Grumble. The more she looked at the deceitful pictures, the hungrier and louder her tummy got. Too many choices! What? Waffles sprinkled with sprinkles?

Food was food!

"Just order for me!"

Jaune almost fell back from the force of her roar, holding his menu for dear life. Other customers peeked over to their table before resuming their chat somewhat louder. She didn't care that her temper got the better of her, likely red-faced. Today was _Morning Date with Nora_, so, therefore, he ordered for the lady, acting like a gentleman without a tie, and if she despised it, then her fork might have a few words to say.

He stumbled but quickly recovered. "Uh? Oh! Okay. Just give me a sec."

Sure, sure. Nora waited that second and several more, thanking Granny when she brought over freshly squeezed orange juice. _Made with love, she had asked. No, Granny had answered, made with sugar_.

That answer pleased her, but not as much as the whoa tasting orange juice.

Her lips puckered over the straw as Jaune ordered for them, slurping it all down with her lips wobbling in overzealous content. When he waved to the retreating Granny—mistake number all—she sneakily swiped his beverage and wrapped her lips tight around the straw.

"... That's mine."

Oops, caught red-handed.

Innocent-eyed, she blinked slowly at the glaring Arc, straw between puckered lips, before slurping a tiny bit of his juice. Dummy actually reached for it, but she moved quicker and kicked the table away. Oomph went his body. Ha! All for her! Slurp! Down in one gulp, she released a satisfied burp and scooted her chair back in. One empty glass fell into his hands with her chin resting on one palm.

"Tasty."

He looked through the glass. "I wouldn't know."

She offered him a harmless smirk. Jaune sighed and traced his finger around the rim of his cup before returning the leer. "Wow, if you like the juice that much, I can't imagine your reaction to the waffles."

Bold words for one orange juiceless.

Proper and prim? Not for her. She crumbled up a napkin and threw it at his smug face. A second stood ready clutched firmly between her fingers, but a sweet, rich smell crossed her nose. She loathed to admit it, apologizing to her circle-shaped, butter packed brethren back at Beacon, but the aroma coming from a waffle kitchen smelled wondrous. Mouthwatering to a tee. Then to mock her, that old lady popped out of the pantry with their order in her hands, moving briskly fast for a bag of bones.

Nora admired her tenacity. For an old hag, she sure moved fast with steady hands.

She set down their plates with an assortment of add-ons, refilling both her glasses with juice, before pinching smiling gently at her. "Aren't you just a gumdrop. So pretty."

"Aw! Thanks!" Nora waved as Granny left. "I like her."

"Yeah, she's friendly. Reminds me of my grandma."

Nora naturally smiled, only for her not-date to grab the Red Sapped flavored syrup and slowly pour the thick sorghum over her double-decker stack of waffles. Smooth, sticky syrup-filled each square to maximum capacity, spilling over to the next and next in sweet, traitorous bliss. Far more than pancakes. Much, much more.

Hmm!

Nora kneeled on the floor to glare suspiciously over the edge of the table, fingers gripping the hardwood. How? How?!

Waffles held more syrup than pancakes? Preposterous! What kind of forbidden sorcery was this? Two-times? Three times—four-times as much! Nora wiped away drool from the corner of her mouth, out of shock, not hunger. Grumble. Shut up, stomach!

She growled and sat down to gradually reach for her fork. She pulled the utensil in before facing her adversary with her silver weapon. Hehe. Face-to-face with the unknown. Nora experimentally poked the square-y shaped morsel. Hmmm? Tender, yet crunchy, an odd combination. Fluffiness was dutifully noted missing. Squares within a square. Each capable of holding a fair amount of syrup.

Jaune watched her poke and prod from the sidelines. He finished applying syrup to his stack and pushed her plate closer to her. "Try it. It's not going to bite. That's your job."

"Shhh, this is a big deal!"

He thinned his lips and began cutting up his food. "Tell you what, if you don't like, I'll order you a tall stack of lumberjacks."

"... And if I do?" Nora trailed. "Would you get me some more Red Sap?"

Jaune paused in his cutting to decipher Nora's backward logic of rewarding her for liking the food. What—he snatched her fork, cut up a piece, and fed her with the practiced grace of _Feed Me Day_. The gulping sound of her mouth filling was music to his ears, followed with her cheeks puffing out, eyes exploding, and mouth churning to chew the delectable delights. Beginning bites started slowly but steadily picked up speed. Chew. Munch. Swallow. Nora ate her piece and failed to keep her intense shivering under control. So good! So unfair! She sighed satisfyingly, smirking once the nirvana wore off.

"What are you smiling about?"

"You never said _no._" Nora sing-songed, lips stained.

She knew she won when he remained frozen for all but half a minute, dropping her fork to consume his meal. Laughing, she snorted and picked up her utensil to eat more, brightly grinning when she plopped another crunchy square into her mouth. Fork in mouth, she peeked over to his plate and turned innocent-eyed. Oh? Oh! Jaune added whip cream and bits of strawberries to his waffles, all topped with a chocolatey layer. Syrup on the bottom and sprinkles on top, her stomach growled.

She released and waved her fork at his stack. "Oh? Looks yummy. Can I try some?"

He grinned. "What happened to not being much of a waffle eater? Was the Great Nora Valkyrie lying?"

She blushed with narrowed eyes. "Shut up! This proves nothing. I'm just hungry as all. Gimmie."

"Sure, sure."

Out of habit, he forked her a serving of his.

She chomped down, making a cute biting sound. Turquoise eyes then exploded in toothsome pleasure. Chocolate. Blue-berry flavored syrup. Strawberries. The works! Nora scrunched her face in pure bliss, munching with her arms pushed to her body in fisting delight. De-li-cious! Her toes curled with her body wiggling in the seat. Taste buds appreciated the flavor grenade in many ways than one.

Waffle, more than a six-letter word.

She demanded a second helping, and he only chuckled before pushing his plate over to her side and switching with hers. "Here, you can have mine. I'll take yours."

She never argued.

Another forkful, another bite, and Nora kicked her feet out underneath the table. She glowed that same shimmer from before, but more radiant. Squirming, she refused, powerless to remain still in her seat. Other patrons glanced over their way, yet Jaune cared not and appreciated her display. How someone survived so cheerfully optimistic astonished him beyond words. He fussed over the chaoticness of his teammate, spraying a mountain of cream whip all over his waffles.

If he couldn't fantom words, then maybe the source?

Small talks happened on not-dates, after all.

"Tell me." Jaune urged. "Who's Nora Valkyrie? I want to know it all."

Nora paused with her mouth stuffed.

Not a question most people asked her. Not a question anyone asked her. The vast majority favored first impressions, and while she knew Jaune-Jaune was different, it still caught her by surprise. Not in a bad-bad way. She lightened at the chance to deluge her story with someone she trusted. Experimentally playing with her tie, she snuggled into the warmth of her hoodie.

"What do you want to know?" Nora asked with her mouth full.

"Everything."

Everything? Where to begin? She had so many stories. She swallowed before listing off with her fingers. "Well..."

Nora Valkyrie animatedly chatted about her future hopes and dreams.

Jaune Arc listened to every word in rhapsody.

She ended up stealing the rest of his food with the occasional feeding by her leader. Good thing, too, because while she slept in her food coma in their dorm room, stuffed with waffle goodness, her Fearless Leader hunted down a vial of Red Sap from Forever Fall.

He never said _no_.

A lesson learned while he decapitated an Ursa Major's head as he hummed their theme song.

_Morning Date with Nora?_

His favorite holiday thus far.

* * *

**Author Notes: **I've never smiled so hard while writing. Nora's character requires a different writing style that's so much fun.


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